The Crippled Lion (No longer Updated)
by W0lf-Spirit
Summary: Tim is kidnapped and tortured. The events that follow.
1. PreWarning

**Title:** The Crippled Lion  
**Author:** Wolf and Gibbs  
**Rating (overall):** R  
**Disclaimer:** Not at all real, obviously, as it contains fictional characters. I get no money off of this therefore not breaking any copyrights.  
**Warnings (overall):** Violence, torture, brink of death, angst, suicidal thoughts giving up, other mean things. Probably cussing at one point. And an unknown length of 'unfinished'ness... as it is an RP in essence  
**Pairings:** None. At all… everything is simply friendship. End of story.  
**Summary: **The team are working on a case. Tim gets kidnapped and tortured for information. The events that follow.

**Notes:**As usual… my huge pre-story rant….

Firstly… normally I take forever to think of a title… I've decided that all my stories, Monkees or not, will have a title which is the name of a Monkees song. As soon as I scrolled past this song title I needed it as the story title. It just fits very well.

Another note… This is pretty much a story… but actually an RP. Between me and my friend on myspace (Me as Tim and her as Gibbs. _"specialagent_timothymcgee" "specialagentjethrogibbs" _If you want to add either of us you better be a good novella RPer. I do not accept fans and neith does she. I'm just telling you in case I run across an RPer. I don't accept any real people and am picky about characters.)

So… it goes back and forth. The first post is mine. I will change the chapters at the parts we exchange the baton… so to speak… when the posts are shorter, but at least the first few posts I'll break it up. I will have it marked where the writer changes. (With either _**Tim**_ or _**Gibbs **_at the beginning of the chapter or paragraph it starts) Since we also play other characters, (But you'd still probably be able to tell)

This is a dark story, obviously, as you'll see early on. It is also consequently the first time I've written ANYTHING NCIS based. The starter for this RP was the first time I put myself in the mindset of Tim or NCIS at all, and actually only have one other RP besides this one. (Also… I've hinted on beatings and stuff before but not focused on torture and it's consequences till now)

For the record… a great deal if not all of my inspiration comes from Enthusiastic Fish and her stories. All evil to McGee and greatly written. You MUST go read her works if you even _think _mine _might _be intriguing. (Check my favorite authors and stories) Because she's a better writer and has more ideas then I do. And if I accidentally have some sorta similarity between something said in her story and mine that's simply because my brain said it was a good idea and decided to use it and it may have been an idea I had before I read her story anyway, just never put it down because I never got a chance to. I don't intend to take anything because my mind shuts down when I write. I don't know if there will be any of that and I doubt it but think I should put that for insurance and because I still think you should read her stories... because if you're reading this you must be interested in Tim McGee and perhaps Tim!Angst as well and she has plenty. I'm just trying to be evil to Timmy so drawing on my small pool of knowledge of pain and the human mind.

Finally… I will change some things to make it a better story so this is not word for word the same as the RP… but it's probably only changed words here or there or an unscrambled sentence. So although I'm doing a little extra work to make it posting worthy and chance small quirks to my liking I still count duo credit with Gibbs.

Oh... no... this is the finally... For the record.. the mention of Tim's parents (don't know if I'll even post up to that point but whatever) I had it in my mind a long time ago they were dead. And there is very little evidence to the contrary in the show. (some but easily moldable) Soooo.... *evil grins* You'll see.... But that may become another story in its own someday.


	2. Tim1

_**Tim**_

* * *

NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee sat hard at work at his desk. He was still at NCIS Headquarters. Though, with how late it was, he was one of the only ones there. He had never noticed when the rest of his team had left for home. He hadn't noticed the night staff come in. The agents who were unlucky enough to have to spend the night at the office.

A case had come up a little over a week ago. A Petty Officer Thomson was beaten to death, or as Ducky had pointed out, tortured. The victim's family, a wife and child, both were found dead, gunshot to the child's chest and woman's head. Though it had appeared, from Ducky's findings, that the woman had tried protecting her child before her death.

The worst part of it all was that there didn't seem to be a reason. None of them could find out a motive, be it for drugs... information... a score to settle... anything. And even worse than that... they couldn't find who did it. They did find the murderer of the wife and child. He was found dead. It had seemed like Thomson had managed executing revenge before his own untimely demise. But evidence pointed to there being a different killer for the naval officer and it having more people involved. The man, or organization, who tortured Thomson to death was still out there somewhere.

They had come up to no leads. Nothing to point them in the right direction. That was until Abby found a little Easter egg of sorts in Thomson's hard drive. The problem was it was heavily encrypted. Skilled, professional type stuff. Abby had been unable to get even through one level of the code.

Tim, however, could.

Ever since receiving the data, stored in a flash drive, Tim could be found at his desk working away at it. Seeming to lap up the fresh challenge. He had barely eaten at all that week, thanks to early mornings, late nights, and busy lunches at work. In fact he could only recall having breakfast twice and dinner once. Perhaps Abby had forced snacks on him one or twice but that was at the very most. He also had barely slept... for the same reasons.

Tonight, with the helpful lead found, the team had by Vance's order been sent home on time today. They were all busting their asses for the case and needed to have a full night's sleep for once. It would be pointless for the lead to lead them to an arrest... then them all get shot down thanks to not enough sleep.

But, of course, Tim hadn't even noticed the order when it had been issued and didn't notice the bull pen empty hours earlier. Crystal green eyes flew over the data, snapping back and forth from his decryption program and the information it spat out. He was so very close to hitting the jackpot. He knew it. His trained, computer hacking senses nearly tingling as he approached a point of much needed data.

_So Close.... So Close!_ He willed his program to decrypt the information faster. He was on a roll now, sorting through all the encrypted and decrypted data nearly as fast as the program was running. This did, after all, rely on not only the decryption program but the ability to feel, in a sense, ones way around the data. A skill only learned through experience... something which he had.

"Agent McGee. What are you still doing here?"

Tim jumped, being forcefully wrenched from his thoughts. He had been so focused on his computer screen he hadn't even noticed Director Vance walk up to him wearing a coat and obviously ready to leave. Tim's green eyes flitted over to the clock on his desk. It was nearly 10 pm. Well after the time he could have left.

"Agent McGee. I had told your entire team to leave on time today. It's not on time anymore." He held back a small grin. McGee was a fine worker. He was very dedicated to his work. Sometimes too dedicated. "Listen. Come into work at noon tomorrow. You need the extra rest. You look pale. You can finish this then. The rest of your team has a witness to talk to in the morning anyway so you won't be missing much."

Tim's eyes went back to Vance, unable to really meet the Director in the eye. His confidence had grown immensely since he had first started working at NCIS. He no longer stammered whenever he was in the presence of Gibbs or Vance or other higher authorities. But his self-confidence still was much lower than most people's. And in a confrontation like this he felt like a probie again.

"B-But director-"

Vance cut him off. He had seen the obvious lack of sleep in the agent, even less than the others, and it would not due. "No. You need the rest. You don't look like you've had a decent night's sleep all week and I don't believe you've taken any of your lunch breaks."

Tim's eyes widened. _No! I need to finish this! I'm so close!_

But, at the sharp look from Vance, Tim knew he couldn't fight it. He deflated and saved the data his program had gotten. He also quickly typed in a sort of cheat into his program to make it easier, though less accurate to decrypt the data , only taking a few extra minutes to do it. He wasn't sure why he had the urge to do it… but he did anyway. Vance waited for Tim, making sure the agent didn't decided to stay behind or take the flash drive home and work at it that night, as he had often taken home work this week.

Tim wanted to take the data, but couldn't, so grudgingly followed Vance out of the building, being sure to make a polite smile as he said good bye before getting into his car.

Once at his apartment his body went into an autopilot mode. He found he was much more tired than he had realized. He shuffled in, petted Jethro, his German shepherd, on the head, and barely took time to change his clothes before falling down on his bed, fast asleep.

* * *

Tim awoke to a bright sun casting it's warm rays through his bedroom window. Momentarily forgetting Vance's instruction he bolted upright, immediately

awake. "I'm gonna be late! Gibbs is gonna kill me!"

Jethro, who was sleeping at the foot of Tim's bed, whined. Obviously aggravated at getting almost thrown to the floor as his human nearly fell out of bed in a hurry.

The whine brought Tim back down to earth. He glanced at the clock. It was only about nine in the morning. True he'd be late... had it not been for Vance's instruction. He was not to come in till noon. Probably get teased by Tony about it, then be able to finish what he had been working on.

A little aggravated about the dramatic wake up and now about having to wait to finish the data he grumbled as he leisurely made his way to take a shower and put on his normal attire.

After a quick bowl of cereal it was only about ten. He still had plenty of time before having to be at work.

He contemplated working on his book a little, then glanced over at Jethro, who was staring at his human. Tim couldn't help but grin. True he and Jethro hadn't gotten started on the right foot but now he couldn't imagine a life without the big mutt. Jethro was a very intelligent dog. (Although once Tim let that slip and he didn't see the end of the teasing for about a month)

"Wanna go for a walk?"

The question was, obviously, a very redundant one. Jethro barked once and jumped up on his human to lick Tim the face a few times, before going to sit patiently at the door. Tim laughed as he dried his face, he loved the dog... he hated the slobber. "I'll take that as a yes."

After a few moments of gathering up everything he needed he took Jethro to the car. Ducky had agreed to allow Jethro to stay in his back yard on nice days rather than being cooped up in Tim's apartment for hours on end. So, since it was only a little out of his way, Tim decided that Jethro should be able to stretch his legs since it was such a beautiful day.

Within ten minutes Tim pulled up to the destination and Jethro barked enthusiastically. It was a small forest preserve with a nice walking path through it. Tim liked it since it had a comfortably level track while Jethro still got the more interesting smells of woods rather than the less interesting smells of a regular walking park. Tim liked to walk Jethro here when he felt he needed time to himself or time to think, since there were fewer distractions from other joggers or dog walkers.

With Jethro on a leash Tim set into the nice patch of woods, admiring the natural beauty of it, before his mind wandered to the data he had collected last night. He had seen something interesting. Something he was sure was important, before he was kicked off of the job. He started trying to fit things into place in his mind so he'd be that further ahead with what he could tell Gibbs once he got to work.

After a few moments, though, something started not feeling right. His gut was telling him to turn around and leave. To hurry up and run out of there. But he didn't listen to his gut. He had been told more than once by Tony that, seeing as he was the least experienced with field work, he had no 'gut' yet. Despite the protests Tim had given him, he felt Tony was right. He didn't have a gut feeling. Only Gibbs and Tony had those. He wasn't skilled enough for a gut feeling.

He shouldn't have doubted himself.

By the time he decided that there _was_ someone defiantly following him, it was too late.

Jethro suddenly seemed to get very anxious. He pulled against his leash very intently. Jethro rarely acted so disobedient. Tim allowed himself to go a little faster, but not allow Jethro to take lead. It was in every Obedience 101 to not let the dog think it was in charge.

Unfortunately Obedience 101 didn't warn about ambushes.

The last thing he was aware of was Jethro snarling at something.... or someone. And then a searing pain shooting down his spin from the base of his neck. Then everything went black


	3. Tim2

**_Tim_**

* * *

"Shut that damn dog up!" Colin, the lead of this kidnapping, had wanted to kill the dog before taking the human. It would have been safer. Unfortunately the opportunity never arose before they had to make their move.

Edgar nodded and aimed his gun at the snarling beast. It was obviously a guard dog, probably even could make an attack dog. He didn't want that thing living long enough to sink its teeth into his flesh.

Unfortunately, however, the mutt was quicker than he was. Before even one bullet could be let loose the animal lunged, sinking its teeth deep into the flesh of his arm. He dropped the gun at the impact, not that it would have stayed in his grasp much longer, since the mongrel started trying to rip the appendage clean off his body.

Falling backwards, the dog was now on top of him. He couldn't get the thing to loosen its grip at all. The jaws were like steel teeth, bolted together and unbreakable.

Colin swore loudly as he dropped the body of his victim. This is precisely why they had needed to kill the dog first. He didn't waste time to grab the gun from the ground as he planted a powerful kick in the dog's side.

Jethro let go with a yelp, falling backwards off the man. Colin reached down for the gun, but by the time he had it the canine had sprinted off into the distance. Edgar looked after it, cradling his injured arm, obviously in pain but equally angry. "Shouldn't we go after it?"

Colin shook his head as he gathered the unconscious agent back up, they had to get him from here to the van then to the base, which was, strangely enough, in another set of woods a good hour away. "No. I gave it a good kick in the ribs. Felt like I broke one or two. It probably won't even survive the hour. If it does I still doubt it'll cause much trouble. It's just a stupid dog."

Jethro ran. He was out of breath. The pads on his feet were raw from running on so much concrete. The leash, still trailing behind him, had gotten tangled up a few times and nearly chocked him. By now, though, the leash was much worn from dragging on the ground. It had taken longer than hoped. Though the car ride from the apartment to NCIS was only twenty minutes and the car ride from the park to NCIS was only thirty minutes, it had taken the dog much longer. Not only had he been slowed by broken ribs, and a leash that kept getting caught up, he had trouble finding a path. There were a lot of busy streets in the way so it took him much longer then he could almost handle.

But now, with labored breath, he had found NCIS headquarters. Even in his simple dog brain, he knew his human was in trouble. He knew that if he didn't warn someone his human would be in more trouble. He knew only one place he could find his human's friends. They could help his human. All he had to do was make it there.

* * *

Tony sat back in his chair, grinning widely, "Probie's gonna be in _so_ much trouble with Gibbs _and_ Vance once he decides to show up. He'd better be dead or dying or Gibbs is gonna kill him."

Abby pouted, trying to back up Tim's inexcusable lateness, "No Tony! The Director gave him until noon off! Remember?" Abby was sitting sat Tim's desk. She didn't have any forensics to go over at the moment. In fact... the case was on halt until McGee finished the decryption.

Ziva couldn't hold back a small smile, "That is true, Abby. But it is already three o'clock!"

Any response Abby may have had was forgotten as she saw a familiar furry creature crawl its way around the corner into the bull pen. "Jethro! Where's Timmy?"

It was obvious, though, with one glance at the dog that something was very, very wrong. He looked like he had ran a long way, the leash still attached to his collar had obviously been dragged a good distance. Jethro himself had a strange imprint on his side with mud on it.

Tony and Ziva looked over as Abby wasted no time in rushing to the dog, who now collapsed to the floor, although still conscience. "Jethro!" Abby bit her lip as she recognized something on the dog's chops... Blood.

Immediately the kind hearted Goth took a blood sample from Jethro's mouth and a mud sample from his feet and side before rushing the dog to the vet. She left Tony in charge of waiting for the results. Amazingly enough the senior field agent didn't protest. They all knew something was wrong.

The entire time, from Abby starting to take the samples, to the halfway through the drive to the vet, Jethro was very anxious. He seemed like he was trying to get up and lead anyone who might follow somewhere. But he had at least one broken rib. If he moved more he might hurt himself more. Abby wouldn't allow that. But she couldn't help the feeling of dread. The feeling that something had happened to McGee.

* * *

Jethro finally stopped trying to get up. This human female was obviously not going to take him to where he wanted. So he might as well accept it. It seemed like the human woman knew something was wrong. He could smell it. So, satisfied that he at least warned someone, he allowed himself to be taken to the vet. But it didn't make him feel any better.


	4. Tim3

**_Tim_**

* * *

The first thing Tim was aware of, upon regaining conciseness, was a throbbing in his head. Like a headache gone bad. But unlike a headache it radiated out into the rest of his body. His mind felt muddy. Unable to focus or remember what had happened. Why was he here?

The second thing he noticed was that he was sitting in something. That something felt uncomfortable. It felt like... like a metal chair. He could feel a strap of some sort around his chest, keeping him in the chair. His arms were handcuffed behind him, very painfully, he noted.

Finally his eyes snapped opened, registering he was in serious trouble. The room he was in was dimly lit by one light bulb handing from the ceiling on the other side of the room. He shook his head, trying to clear it so the memories could return on _why_ he was in this predicament. But that movement caused a fresh wave of pain to radiate out from his skull. He stifled a moan, wishing he could rub his head or have a couple of aspirin, though secretly knowing a headache was the least of his problems.

He remembered, now, why he was here. The case, the tortured petty officer, the hard drive, the encryption, something very important he had seen, off till noon, Jethro, Woods, Someone behind him, Pain, Blackness.

The realization of what had happened did not make him feel any better. His breathing sped up, painfully restricted by the strap over his chest. _What do they want with me?_

It didn't take long to get an answer. A man stepped in front of him. It was impossible to tell many features about the man, just that the man was a bit bigger then Tim was himself. "Where is it?"

Tim couldn't help a confused expression, despite his fear. "W-where's what?"

He had no time to even attempt to block as the fist smashed into his face, making his head snap to the side by the force of it. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain. But he didn't make a sound.

The man continued, "Don't play dumb! That computer you found had encrypted data. We want that data. You tell us what you found on it."

Tim looked back at the captor, realization clicking into place. This must have been the man, or more likely group, that had tortured Thomson.... to death. And now they had him. That sent a new, icy cold fear rushing through his blood making him shiver a bit. "W-what do you w-want with it?"

He mentally swore at himself for his shaky, fear filled voice. But those thoughts were cut off abruptly as another punch slammed into his head, sending a fresh wave of pain. But he didn't make a sound.

"You won't ask the questions. I will."

Tim looked up at the man again, completely terrified. He just wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. But he couldn't tell them. He could not tell them what he found. There were codes. Important codes. And they didn't seem to be codes for a video game either. Nor something as small as drugs. No... It was bigger. And telling these freaks what they wanted to know could put many more lives in danger. He was an NCIS Special Agent. It was his job to protect people. He couldn't allow his own weakness kill any innocent people.

His captor eyed him a few moments. He was defiantly the runt of the team. Probably always had been in anything he had done throughout his life. But there was a strange fire in his eyes. It was unexpected from a man like this. Petty Officer Thomson had it. It had managed to prolonged his death as they tried, yet failed, to get the information from him. But in the end the fire didn't save Thomson's life… only made the last moments of it painful.

He was sure he could douse this kid's fire in a day. Gingerly he undid the strap around the agent's chest, but before his captive could even express his confusion, he set to work.

Tim tried to fight back. Tried to block. Tried to do anything. But his hands were still cuffed behind him. He couldn't defend himself. Within moments he was on the floor, trying to at least protect his head and chest from the onslaught of fists and feet. He didn't make a sound.

* * *

After what had seemed like hours the man yanked Tim up, though didn't place him back into a chair. Instead he took the handcuffs off and dragged Tim over to what looked like a strong, metal hook suspended by the ceiling. It had heavy duty metal cuffs, which had, as Tim soon found out, rather sharp edges. The man hoisted Tim up, clasping the metal cuffs painfully around his wrists. His arms still angled behind his back.

The hook was high enough off the ground that it required Tim to have to stand on his tip toes. Otherwise the weight of his body, being only held up by his wrists, was too much for his shoulder sockets and they'd make it painfully clear.

The man was not done. He started off with a nice simple motivation for the agent to stay conscience and support his weight with his feet. He took out a blunt knife, since it could tear more flesh and cause more pain than a sharp one, and sunk it deep into the flesh underneath the collar bone between the shoulder and neck. Before he yanked it out he gave it a good twist.

Hardly having been aware of what had been going on until now, Tim rejoined reality very quickly. The pain shot through his body from where the knife had sank in like lava running through his veins. It was worse than any point of the beating.

Finally... Tim screamed.


	5. Tim4

Tim opened his eyes, immediately wishing he hadn't. Consciousness just reminded him of the situation he was in. It reminded him of the only thing his body was aware of. Pain. He was in so very much pain. They had beaten him, whipped him, stabbed him, burnt him, and even electrocuted him. They hardly let him sleep... just allowed him to pass out long enough to not die from sleep deprivation. The same went for water. Only enough to, barely, keep him alive. And since they only had him for a week so far... he didn't need much yet. The entire time trying to get him to tell them whatever had been on that hard drive. Or trying to make him decrypt the information they had. It had been an entire year yet he managed to not talk. _A year? Really? It can't have been. It wouldn't make sense to try to get information for a whole year. Especially since you don't know it all. _At this moment his captors were away, letting him rest. Or resting themselves. He wasn't sure.

He couldn't support himself on his toes anymore. He had long since lost the strength. That brought more pain, however, since the knife wound in his shoulder still throbbed. But it was only a shadow of pain compared to the rest of his body.

He hadn't told them any information. None. He had, at the beginning, told them bogus information. He was punished for that. _Shouldn't I just tell them? It would make it quicker. Maybe.... maybe they could just finally kill me. Make the pain stop._ He had long since lost hope of escape. He had tried for the first couple days on escaping every chance he could... the next few on when it seemed it might work. Now, though, he'd lost all hope of leaving this place alive. His head sank as he let the tears flow freely. Some of pain, some of fear, some of just wanting it to be over in some way. Any way. "No" His words had come out in a harsh whisper, barely even audible to the naked ear. _I can't do that. Others will be in danger... I can't... I can't..._

* * *

"He's not breaking and we've been at this for a week. It would be easier to go find the data ourselves."

Harry, the leader of this little shindig, frowned a moment, going over possibilities. Finally he nodded, "Alright, get rid of him. He's in too bad a shape for us to make him do what we want so just take him out back and shoot him."

The man nodded and entered back into the room to finish off the annoyingly surprising NCIS agent. He was a computer geek. Not supposed to stand up to a week of careful torture.

* * *

Tim, still mostly out of it, didn't pay much attention as the man took him down from the meat hook. He was used to it; it usually meant a new wave of pain was on its way.

But as he felt the outside air on his face he became alert. Or at least as alert as his weakened body could be. Something was wrong. Why were they outside?

He barely saw the gun in time. The man aimed for him and took a shot. Although normally he might have been able to roll away from the bullet he was weakened, slowed, and in pain. His reflexes were much slower than normal. In an entire week they only let him sleep when he passed out and hadn't been given any food. Logically he knew they had to give him water at some point but he couldn't remember it. If they had given him food he couldn't remember that either.

The bullet grazed his already hurt arm. He bit back a yell, not sure he could muster the strength to scream anyway, and scrambled to his feet, surprising himself that his legs actually were supporting him at all. His legs felt unmistakably like jello but it didn't matter, he had to get out of there. The man was pulling the trigger again. Tim was scrambling away to the woods, missing the second bullet as his legs, luckily, collapsed. Finally he made it to the woods and kept going.

* * *

The man ran after him, wondering how this turn of events could have possibly happened. The agent was beaten and hardly could stand yet somehow got away.

As he saw the kid seemed to have disappeared in the woods he ran back into the house to report the back news. Now, with more men, set out to find the agent. He couldn't get away.

* * *

Finally in the woods Tim gave up walking. He crawled further into the trees. It felt like hours before he just couldn't go any further.

But he knew they'd be after him. He had heard enough of their conversations to know much more than a survivor should. He had to tell Gibbs.

Gibbs... NCIS... things from a life long since passed. Gone forever. They didn't seem like they were looking for him. If they were they'd have found him by now. It was because he was just the geek. They didn't care enough. Had it been Tony or Ziva they'd have found him in a day. But he was just the probie. He was almost sure of it, despite the little bit in the back of his mind scolding him for thinking of such things.

Still... whether they cared about him or not. Whether it was a life long since passed or not. He had to try. He had to try to survive at least long enough to tell what he knew. He couldn't let those people get away with it.

He found a little area with rocks. If he could manage to squeeze himself into it they'd be less likely to find him. He did, ignoring the dampness, and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees. He was not a small man but, be it due to the need to hide or simply not having eaten much in two plus weeks, he was somehow able to pull himself into a tight ball.

Finally, unable to fight off the darkness encompassing him, he drifted to sleep. Secretly hoping someone would find him... alive... and that someone was someone who could help him.


	6. Gibbs1

Leroy Jethro Gibbs, just speaking the name sent shivers down certain people's spines. He was a highly respected man and feared by those who knew what he was capable of. Cold, emotionless and loyal were only a few things of which people referred to him as. He never showed fear. He felt it. He harnessed it. He found useful ways to deal with and control it so it didn't control him.

The case they were working on, him and his trusty team, had him in one of those states where one small look from him was all that was needed to get the command processed. It hit home for him to be trying to solve the murder of a wife and child of a militant. He found himself thinking he would have rathered his situation to have turned out like this case. He wondered if life would have been better if he had been killed along side his family like Petty Officer Thompson was.

The wonders and thoughts left him the more he worked the case. To say he was obsessed in finding the killers, for not only the wife and child but Thompson, would be an understatement. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat and he didn't rest. The only thing keeping him going was revenge and coffee. The substances that fueled him on any daily basis. When ordered to go home, he did, but that didn't mean he stopped working the case. He took evidence and paper work home with him. He conducted investigations and interrogations on his own outside the building but got no closer to the suspect then when they had started. There was nothing, the case was leaving them high and dry and Jethro was craving information like some animal needed to feast upon flesh.

Having been told to go home a million times by Vance, Jethro finally took heed and did as he was asked. He was a loyal pit bull to it's master. He had even made this comparison himself to the man. Explaining how, if it was treated well it could be a very loyal subject, but if it was lied to and treated badly it could turn on you and bite out one's throat with one snap of it's jaws. Jethro was getting closer to the point of snapping as the days went on.

* * *

Jethro settled in front of the started frame of his new boat, sanding the wood carefully, as if it were human flesh being carved into the perfect being. Such determination was spread across his face, but it wasn't for making sure the wood was perfectly sanded. It was determination to solve the case and put the killers behind bars or six feet under. He picked up his mason jar filled with bourbon, and sipped it lightly. Glasses on, his eyes narrow a bit as he thinks of the case. His mind paws over every single detail. Every tiny speck of information. He needed that code cracked, he was counting on McGee to get him the information that was needed.

Setting the now empty mason jar down, not even realizing he had drank it all until he lifted it to his lips and getting nothing, Jethro stands shaking his head lightly. His watch had beeped drawing him out of his trance, alerting him it was now 5am. His usual time to get up and get ready, only, again, he hadn't slept. It had been a week since he had slept. He went through these spells where sleep never came. He allowed his body to rest while going into a sort of trance but his mind… it didn't rest and was always fresh and on top of it's game. Being in the Marines had taught him many, many useful things for the job he did now.

Wandering up the stairs to his upper levels of his house, which he rarely spent time in, Jethro felt something was wrong in the pit of his stomach. His stomach was never wrong. As he stepped into the shower letting the cool water run over him waking his senses even more he couldn't help but think about McGee and if he had cracked the code. He hadn't gotten a call yet, but perhaps the boy had fallen asleep trying. Then again he was wondering why McGee would pop into his mind at all. Something didn't seem right. He had this same feeling when he left Ziva in Israel. It was just like the same thing, something was wrong and he knew it.

Dressing in a pair of black slacks, white tank top with a light blue polo shirt on top, Jethro slips his feet into a pair of brown boots and grabs his jacket. His silver hair was still damp from his shower as he picks up his keys. He makes sure weapons were all in place; he never left home without his knife and backup gun. He was always prepared, eyes and ears always ready. Abby was right by nick naming him her Silver Fox.

Getting into his car, Jethro felt like he was being watched. He hadn't seen anyone but still he felt observed in some way. Could be the case but it coincided with that deep feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	7. Gibbs2

Arriving at NCIS, Jethro could sense, more than anything, something wasn't right. He had stopped, along the way, to speak with a contact of his about the case. Still nothing. By the time he got to the building the dog had been there and left. Stepping in he was approached by Vance while Ziva and Tony stood at their desks with concerned, worried looks.

"Agent Gibbs, I need a word with you."

"Any word you have to say can be spoken in front of my agents."

He glances around and sees that McGee wasn't there. He raises a brow then it sunk in, he was right something was wrong with McGee. Before Vance could say anything Jethro was stepping slightly closer.

"How long ..Leon?..." Jethro speaks the man's name as if it were poison. He now knew McGee had been missing or worse for a few hours and yet he wasn't informed.

"From when the dog came in until now? Approximately five hours."

Needless to say Jethro was angry. He drops his coffee into the nearby trash can and moves over to his desk, getting his badge and service weapon.

"DiNozzo..."

Just the speaking of the name had Tony stepping forward to tell his information. "Ziva and I went to his place and it was trashed. All computers were removed."

"We found blood and mud samples on the dog, which Abby has taken to the vet. No word yet on the animal's status."

Vance stood back a bit watching his employees speak without questions to their leader.

Tony continued with his knowledge, "McGee was working on cracking the code last night where Vance told us he said to go home around 10pm so we have a huge window in between there."

Jethro moves swiftly from around his desk giving a glare to Vance. Vance shakes his head at the man. "Gibbs, don't give me that look. I am just as concerned as you are."

"The hell you are! I told you there was something more about this case but you wouldn't listen to a damn thing I told you. If anything happens to him..."

A warning glare emits from Jethro so strong Vance had a hard time not shivering from it, but the man doesn't show his slight fear and doesn't back down. "You remember who you are talking to Gibbs."

"Oh I am Director." With that Jethro slips out with Ziva and DiNozzo right behind him.

"Where to Boss?" Tony asks pulling his jacket on the rest of the way.

"The moment you get results on the blood, you call me. Ziva you're with me."

"Come on Boss, don't make me sit on the side lines on this one. McGee is..."

"I know DiNozzo, I need you here to help Abby." Jethro says a little softer in his fatherly tone to let them know he was going to bring McGee back safe and sound.


	8. Gibbs3

As the week passed, nothing. No leads on McGee's kidnapping. The blood tests came back with a hit, but there was no last known address. The mud from Jethro's side also came up with a hit… but it only slightly narrowed the search area. Not enough to help much without something to narrow things a bit more. It was just as frustrating as ever.

Again Jethro hardly slept, and hardly ate. He didn't rest from working on the case. He hadn't stopped looking for McGee from day one even though Vance was threatening to pull the plug. Finally after that entire week, Abby managed to come up with something.

Jethro's cell starts to blare as he paces around the bullpen trying to think of something, anything at all that could be done to find McGee. His gut was screaming to him that the boy was in grave danger but there was nothing he could do. Nothing was worse for him than to stand around not being able to do anything.

"Yeah… Gibbs...."

The overly excited, scared and worried Gothic Princess starts jabbering in run on sentences. "_IgotsomethingGibbs!!YoubettergetdownherenowIknowwhereTimmyis!"_

With that the line was ended. Jethro was really the only one who could understand Abby's blabbering like that and was down to her lab in no time.

"This time speak slower and at least breath." Jethro gives a gently reassuring smile to her before she starts.

"I was trying to work on where Timmy left off. It wasn't easy Gibbs, in fact I can't even stress how hard it was. Hard? No that wouldn't even stress it. You take wanting to find a cure for a common cold and place it in with trying to find a flea on a sloth and we may have a comparison."

"Abby..." Jethro speaks in his _speak now or I will hit you _tone.

"Right, you don't care about that you only want what information I have. If not for Timmy's life being at risk here I would be upset about you using me, but.."

She takes in a deep breath grabbing Jethro by the arm hauling her over to the machines.

"I started working on the code. I wouldn't have been even started had Timmy not left al little cheat sheet for me. I don't know why he left it." Her eyes widened, "Do you think Timmy knew this was going to happen?" Gibbs gave a long look then shook her head, "No… he would have told us Abby." Abby gave a look like she'd go on but at the look by Gibbs she stopped herself and continued with her information.

"Well while I was going through what I could of what Timmy already cracked and trying to go forward. What little I could figure out is that it's a sequences of numbers and codes that I still have no idea what they are for. It's like something from one of those action movies where they have a bunch of numbers that coincide with these riddles.."

"And this is all going to lead me to McGee soon right?"

"Oh right, you don't care about that either. You do just use me at times don't you? Again I'll open that subject up later. I managed to pull a file out of it and got a list of IP addresses."

"And?" She might as well be talking in some language he didn't understand right now.

"Right...no computer babble just get down to it."

Jethro places his hands on Abby's shoulders and looks into her eyes. "Focus, where is he?"

Abby wraps her arms around Jethro blurting out the address of the last known signal that had come into the computer. "Bring him back in one piece will you..." She pleas with him. Jethro kisses her forehead and nods.

"You know I will." He whispers silently before leaving the lab. He dials Tony's number just telling him of the location before heading out solo. Ziva and Tony were at another location following up on another false lead courtesy of Vance. They could get real backup and fill in Vance themselves.

With that Jethro guns it out of NCIS and towards the location where the men were holding McGee. He had no idea what he was going to come across or what was going to take place. All he knew was he was getting his agent back one way or another.


	9. Gibbs4

Stopping just outside the place, Jethro gets out of his car and goes around back. He opens the trunk to get out his rifle and steps back around. He pulls the safety clip down and makes sure a bullet loads right into the weapon before going to the door of the small house and listens for a moment. He could hear two men talking amongst themselves about some man being out in the woods. He couldn't hear their words yet.

He goes around the side peering through the window. He could see a room with a desk and a couple men in it talking. He slinks down a bit more as he sees the two heading to the back door, guns in hands. He keeps going around and then hears what he never wanted to hear.

"You shot the bastard yet it still managed to get away from you?"

"Slippery bugger, what can I say."

"Don't make the same mistake again. You don't kill him, don't come back at all because I'll shoot you instead."

"Relax will you I have it covered..."

Jethro takes aim and fires, hitting the one man while the other takes off for cover. The wounded man crawls off into the woods cradling his other arm now.

"Shit...shit..." Colin hisses taking aim and firing. He lets off a spray of bullets towards Jethro's stand point. Jethro jumps and rolls off to the side feeling one round graze his scalp and another hitting him in the thigh. He gets to his feet again taking aim and firing two more shots, but his shots came late as he heard Colin speeding out of there in a van. He gets the licensee plate number and locks it away in his head before turning to either find McGee or the suspect, whichever came first. The other man had gotten to his feet and took off to get away from Jethro and to find McGee and kill him.

The man runs as fast as he could through the woods pulling his belt tight across his arm, panting slightly while looking back with fear in his eyes. He knew the man who just showed up was not going to be merciful with him and let him get away. He could tell by the look in the older man's blue hues and he was right.

Jethro was stalking his prey, he found the blood trail. The night was starting to take over the day filling the woods with darkness. The other kidnapper had a slight advantage over him, he knew the woods. But Jethro had his own advantages he was used to hunting people in the dark in strange woods. Being wounded didn't affect him in the least. He felt the sting of the bullet in his leg and he felt the pain in his head, but he knew how to harness that and use it at his will. Silently he walks through the heavy brush and fallen leaves to find his agent or the suspect and take of each appropriately.


	10. Tim5

Tim

* * *

Tim slept but his dreams were not peaceful. His dreams were full of pain and cold. Not as much as reality, however, so he slept on. His dreams often had a voice at the beginning. It was telling him to get up. That is was dangerous to sleep. He was sleeping in a wet, cold spot. Not safe. It was getting late, making it colder. And he had lost a lot of blood and weight… impossible to stay warm. His dream-voice was telling him to get up to not freeze to death or bleed to death.

But he didn't listen to the dream-voice. So then it always changed into memories of the past week. But sometimes morphed. He sometimes saw himself telling the bastards what they wanted. Then he would see that information used to get Tony, Ziva, Gibbs or Abby killed. Those were the worst dreams. Even if they didn't care about him he still cared about them. At least Abby was nice to him but didn't care about him. Ziva was decent but treated him like any co-worker. Tony loved to make Tim's life miserable. He took pleasure in making Tim feel like dirt. And Gibbs saw him nothing more than a replaceable computer geek. That was all.

He had always had low confidence in the first place, so his captors had used that against him. They told him that his team… his friends… didn't really care about him. They thought nothing of him so he didn't have a reason to not tell them what they wanted. He, in time, believed them… but didn't tell them anything. That pissed them off and the torture had gotten worse. At first they used a skill they were very good at. Causing maximum pain without killing or causing permanent damage. But after a while they were fed up with him and didn't care what damage they caused.

One of his dreams ended with his death and it woke him with a start. Immediately he started shivering, his clothes were little more than rags now, all stained with blood and dirt. And he was soaked to the skin with blood and water. His muscles ached from shivering and staying in one place for so long but it didn't matter. It was quickly over come with pain. Something told him to get away from here. He hadn't heard the gunfire from the cabin, he was too far away, but still something told him.

He saw little point to it. He crawled out of his hiding spot, ignoring the pool of blood on the ground and blood stains where he had been leaning. His smaller injuries weren't bleeding as much but they still were a bit. A detached part of his mind idly wondered how he had managed to not bleed to death.

He took a few moments to gather up his strength before pushing himself up off of the muddy ground. He managed to make it to his feet. Although unstable he seemed to be able to stand and walk again. Running was out of the question though.

Leaning on a tree next to him he took a few moments to get his mind around the situation.

It was dark. Night. Which mean he'd be less likely to see anyone or anything. True that same thing could be said of those who were hunting him but he doubted he'd be able to be as quiet as them.

It was damp. The woods were damp from rain sometime during the past week. It made things slippery and harder for his already weak body to stay on its feet.

It was cold. It made the situation that much worse for him.

He took a few deep, ragged breaths. It hurt to breath by now. It felt like he had been forced to gargle acid or something. Breathing was not supposed to hurt but right now, for him, it felt like every breath was someone taking a rusty ragged cheese grater and swiping it over his throat and lungs. But he had to breathe. There was no choice.

He had to leave. He had to get away from here. The feeling that he had woken up with which had told him to leave this area had only grew in the time it took to get his footing. So finally he decided to do it. He managed to make it away from his hiding area about ten feet before his slow progress was halted. In the darkness and the mugginess in his mind he hadn't seen the above-ground root from a tree in his path. His foot had caught it and he fell forward painfully. His head was slammed into a rock. The pain from his ankle, and head, mixed with pain of all of his countless other injuries caused him to yell. Not as loud as a scream, though. He didn't have enough in him to scream by now. Over the past week he had screamed far more than any person should.

The yell was loud enough, however, to catch the attention of whoever he was trying to get away from. A dark figure approached him and spoke in an all too familiar voice. A voice he had heard plenty times this past week, "Ah, there you are _Agent McGee_."

Tim's eyes widened, the green hues dull and filled with pain and fear. He scrambled, trying to get his footing but he couldn't. His legs wouldn't cooperate. Although he hadn't actually twisted his ankle when he tripped he had hurt enough that it didn't want to support weight. So rather than being able to get to his feet he dragged himself backwards, trying to get away from the gun aimed at him.

Finally he heard a gunshot but didn't have the time to brace for the impact. Rather the world seemed to slip out from under him, distracting him from the bullet which pierced his leg.

With a yelp of pain and surprised he fell. He had crawled to a steep hill and finally, accidentally, pushed himself over. The decline had a lot of rocks and pebbles and sticks and twigs and who knew what else. It hurt, causing his injures from the past week to reopen and even causing a few extra ones.

Finally he hit the bottom on his back. He whimpered, holding back sobs. The pain in his body had flared up again, causing his entire being to feel like a mass of agony. The fresh bullet hole in his leg only another tally on the list of pain. But he could see, at the top of the hill, the dark figure of a man disappear. He was obviously looking for a safer way down the decline so he could finish Tim off. Tim had to get away. Had to move. Had to go further into the woods and escape. He pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet, gasping in pain.

He walked, or more like stumbled, about five feet before he had to stop. He leaned against the side of a large tree. Slowly he sank down, unaware of the blood trail left on the bark. Before he even realized it he was sitting on the ground. And from there his body sank down the rest of the way to his side.

His body couldn't take much more. His body had been broken and, finally, his spirit was to. He didn't want to die but it seemed to only option. There was no chance of rescue... no chance of getting away. Might as well accept it.

His hunter would find him here and they could kill him. He wouldn't try to get away. They'd shoot him and the pain which he'd been in for a week would stop, finally. The fight would be over. Sure he would have lost but it didn't matter. He hadn't told them anything so although he'd loose so would they.

Now the only choices he seemed to have was either continue to try to escape and stay alive... but eventually die in these woods by gun or his injuries and suffer in agony the whole time. Or to let them kill him. Let the pain stop. He didn't want to die... but it seemed to be a better choice to allow it to happen sooner rather than later. He had plenty of fight in him by nature. He was a stubborn person. But he had fought hard over the past week. And what was left of that fight had been used up trying to escape. He had nothing left.

Now, lying on the ground, he closed his eyes, he let unconsciousness once again over take him. But this time not really expecting to open them again.


	11. Gibbs5

Gibbs

* * *

Listening to any sounds in the woods, Jethro moves cautiously and silently. Each step he took was a skilled one making sure not to make any sounds what so ever. He was a highly skilled man and it was proven right now . No force could stop him, except for death. Though the idea to once again be with his family was tempting… it wasn't his goal right now.

He didn't feel the bullet wound to his leg or head. The blood didn't bother him. He was more interested in finding McGee and making sure he got him out alive. He may never say it to the man, but he thought of him as one of his family too. He didn't think of him as some replaceable computer geek; no, he respected the man for his talents. There was no one on his team that he didn't care about on a deep level. Abby was his daughter, Tony was the annoying nephew who spent the summer, Ziva was another type of daughter to him, Ducky was like a brother and McGee was like the next door neighbors child who always came up with the best excuses for why he was in the yard while Jethro was working on some kind of project just to ask questions about what he was doing. All in all he cared for them and they were all his family.

Hearing the gun shot, Jethro picked up his pace. He didn't slow he was tracking… like a fox hunting down a rabbit. He pauses by a tree, the setting sun was now replaced by the full moon. It's light lit up quite a distance. His blue hues looked more silver now, inhuman as he looks down sniffing the air. He could smell the irony copper smell of blood beside him. Putting his hand down against the damp leaves he lifts his hand and sniffs it. Unmistakable… it was blood. His heart started to race a bit more knowing who's blood it was. He stands up tall and starts on his hunt again.

After a little longer he could hear a man talking and could hear something coming from behind. He could either break cover take down who ever it was in front of him and continue looking for McGee or stay hidden and hope he was right that McGee was with the man in front of him Taking a tactical standpoint, assessing all his options, Jethro slips behind a tree. He could make out that the man before him was cradling one arm and favoring his other. He could then make out the lump of flesh laying against the tree root. It was no doubt McGee. He feels his blood start to boil as that protective side kickied in. He wasn't reckless, but he would protect until his last breath.

As the second kidnapper came into view, Jethro took aim at the one holding the gun aimed at McGee.

"Will you pull the trigger already and clean this mess up."

"What about the other guy? The freaky commando like man?"

"What about him? He probably crawled off behind some tree somewhere and died. Hurry up just shoot him in the head. Stop with the games."

Taking no chances Jethro fires hitting the man right in the head. He goes down hard in a crumple against the ground. Colin panics looking between the dead man in front of him, the unconscious, dying one and towards where the gun fire came from. He fires off a few rounds and hides behind a tree. He glares at McGee reloading his gun. "This isn't over yet."

He then peers around the tree nearly getting a bullet between the eyes before he fires off another few rounds and bolts into the woods. Jethro knew this was far from over yet.

Crawling on his stomach towards McGee, keeping himself as low to the ground as he possibly could, Jethro manages to reach McGee. He checks his pulse. Luckily there was a pulse… unfortunately it was extremely weak… hardly even there.

He glances up at the darkness and grabs McGee by the shirt collar tugging on him to pull him to cover. The shirt, tattered and torn, rips in his hand causing him to lose his grip.

Quickly he places the rifle strap over his arm and picks McGee up. It was one hell of an effort for a man his age, let alone being wounded. He could feel the blood flow freely from his leg and down into his boot. Holding back his buckling leg, Jethro slings McGee into a fireman's carry over his shoulder and starts off into the wilderness. There was no way he was going to be able to get McGee out of the woods at night. He knew the man wouldn't make it and he knew that there were people in those woods waiting for them, hunting them. So the fox hunt was on.


	12. Gibbs6

Gibbs

* * *

Wandering for what seemed like hours, Jethro finds a large uprooted tree. The base of it made a den like structure that looked like it was once used by a bear or another large mammal. Laying McGee down gently, Jethro lets out a slight grunt, his own muscles starting to get a tad bit sore. He hadn't had to do this kind of work in a very long time. But despite this he was more than ready and willing to do so, Jethro was not giving up on one of his team…no… not his team.. his family members.

"Hang on there Timothy..." He whispers to him taking off his jacket draping it over McGee, covering him tightly to prevent hypothermia and to try and comfort him. He picks up his rifle and does a look out around the perimeter of the little safety zone and finds that they were, luckily, alone. No sounds other than the sounds of the forest.

He looks up at the sky seeing the old storm clouds starting to cover the moon. He could feel it deep down in his bones that the rain and possibly snow was going to fall. Satisfied that he had found a safe spot for the night, Jethro gathers brush, moss, dry wood, bark and roots from varies plants before returning to McGee's side again. He sets everything down before moving to McGee and checking his pulse. He could feel how cold the man was. The injuries, he knew had to be attended to but right now he had to make sure he would survive the night, meaning he had to make shelter from the coming storm.

He covers McGee with some of the brush before grabbing a large arm load and getting up on the other side of the fallen tree. He hisses as he put more pressure on his leg. It stung more than anything right now. But he continues on like nothing was wrong. as if it were a kink in the muscle. He puts the brush so it hung over the edge of the large roots and sod so it made a canopy like structure. The rain and or snow wouldn't be able to get through it and what did wouldn't be much. Feeling the rain droplets start to fall, Jethro doesn't stop. He moves around the six foot area pulling up other roots and things placing some of the woods down around them making it so their little den would stay warm and dry.

Soon the rain starts to come down lightly, but he was finished with the shelter so crawls back down into the noel where he had stuffed McGee, under the huge roots, and places the fire wood into the center. He pulls out some paper, mostly his note pad and some old receipts, and lights them to get the fire started. Once it was starting to burn lightly, Jethro heard the rain start to come down even harder. Some droplets made it through the make shift root hissing against the fire, but not enough to put it out. Feeling the cold air against his flesh, Jethro didn't take his jacket back from the wounded man. No he left it on McGee for his safety and comfort… that was what was more important right now. He himself would come last. His breath plums above his head, hair and skin damp from the cold rain.

After a few moments he pulls off the jacket and starts to tend to McGee's wounds. He was no doctor that's for sure but he was certainly skilled at battle field patching up and this was damn close to that. Placing a hand on the man's forehead, Jethro shakes his head a bit swallowing hard at the sight of the battered man.

"Don't you give up Timothy, don't you dare give up." He orders him in a fatherly, determined tone. He only used his full name like that when he was concerned about him and protective. It had to mean something if, in fact, McGee could even hear his voice right now.


	13. Tim6

_**Tim**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

Tim had fallen unconscious some time ago. Yet again that voice in his mind told him to get up and run. But he purposefully ignored it. He didn't care anymore. He knew he'd die in these woods. He would take his last breath in these woods. The only question was when. So might as well accept that fate. It would make it easier.

The sound of gunfire near him jolted him partially out of the blackness of unconsciousness. He was so tired and hurt so much. He didn't care enough to bother reacting to the commotion around him. He only sort of registered the voice of one of his kidnappers saying that it wasn't over yet. What could possibly be happening that caused the man to leave Tim here rather then finish him off? Tim wasn't even trying to get away. He wasn't even completely conscious.

He hadn't heard when some person crawled over to him. He only felt a hand on his tender skin feeling for a pulse. The hand was gentle but, against his bruised, cut up skin it felt almost like metal shavings scratching against his skin. It didn't matter though. The hand was probably feeling for a pulse to make sure he was dead. Tim was _pretty_ sure he was alive. It would really suck if he was dead and still hurt so much. So, since he was alive, he expected a swift bullet to follow as the hand pulled away. But it didn't.

Instead he felt someone scrambling to grab him and finally lifting him up to their shoulder. That, finally, snapped Tim back to awareness, though not really consciousness. The pain from the movement hurt. It hurt very badly. Pressure was being put on his chest and that particular pain took the lead of the pain which was resurfaced. He was pretty sure he had received a broken rib or two in some beating at some point. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the pain.

He couldn't stop himself as a quick yell of pain ripped through his lips. It wasn't loud. In fact it was only about as loud as his normal speaking voice was. But it was as loud as he could muster, his vocal chords had been strained to much over the past week.

But he was resolved to whatever was happening. Screaming had not gotten him anywhere during the past week. He quieted down, although the pain didn't In fact the pain grew the longer he was being moved. Had his eyes been open they'd be full of pain, but also see that he was in safe company. He didn't know that, however, he supposed that, perhaps, his killer was moving him to a better place to dispose of his body. So they just had to clean up one spot rather then two.

_Hang on there Timothy..._

The voice who had said his name seemed familiar. Gentle and concerned. But who could it be? He couldn't place it.. .nor could he think of who in the world would be concerned for him?

The confusion... deep in the back of his mind, in the one area which had been preserved this week, was not enough to bring him back into full awareness. That meant pain. And also meant the re-realization of his situation and the fact that he wouldn't get out of this alive. He stay mostly unconscious, not really registering that he had become a little less cold.

He felt himself slipping. It was a strange feeling. One he'd never experiences before and, usually, a person only felt once in their life. The feeling of death slowly wrapping it's cold, yet comforting, hand around his body. Around his heart. It was a slow process because something had forcefully slowed it. For some unknown reason the bite of the cold was disappearing. He wasn't freezing to death... not quite at least. He could... but that would take some time. He was still bleeding, especially by the most recent cuts and gunshot wound. But he was not bleeding as much as before. He could bleed to death but it was taking longer then it had been before. His injuries, however, were still bad. Unknown internal injuries mixed with the external ones were taking their toll. Some probably were infected or would be soon. But it was not killing him quickly. No... death was taking time not because of one thing but it was still taking him because of everything mixed together. It was accelerated a lot by his unwillingness to stop it.

He knew that he could fight it off. He had fight in him... somewhere. All he had to do was focus of something real. The pain... his surroundings. Something. Anything other then the comforting numbness that was engulfing him. But he didn't want to. There was no point. The never-ending blackness closed in further.

_Don't you give up Timothy, don't you dare give up._

That voice... there it was again. Who was still with him? Why were they with him?

It was so familiar. Something deep down told him to listen to that voice. To trust that voice and follow the order. He didn't know why though. And he was curious. Why was the pull so strong to do as the voice said? He'd been told to do many things over the past week and he ignored every command. Why was this one different?

There was only one way to find out. Temporarily Tim pushed back the comforting embrace of death. He focused on anything and everything that could pull him out of the darkness. The warmth somewhere nearby. The dampness and cold bite of the air. The smell of rain and fire. The pain.

He opened his eyes. His green hues dull and no longer holding fear. Instead they held a chilling acceptance of death powered by unspeakable amounts of pain. It took him a few seconds to adjust to the light. Once he could focus he looked over. Someone was with him. Someone with blue eyes... silver hair... determined expression......

Finally it clicked. It had taken a moment to realize who he was looking at. The click was weak but still there. Though he hardly reacted as his mind processed the new information.

He took a deep breath which wracked his whole body. It still hurt so much to breath and he could hardly seem to fill his lungs with enough air.

His voice was weak. Resigned to his fate. It was interesting that Gibbs was here. Perhaps finally they figured out the information he was working on and came to bust the suspects. It didn't cross his mind that Gibbs was here to save him. He long ago abandoned the idea that they cared. Not really. The only times any of them showed him any sign of care what when he was in deep shit. So they didn't care. Gibbs wasn't here for him.

Even if he did it didn't matter. There was no way to survive. Not now. To many people wanted him dead. It didn't matter... nothing did. "S-sorry Boss."

He closed his eyes again, the comforting embrace of death once again weaving it's way around him. Still... something felt wrong. Something told him to get up. But, unlike before, it was not telling him to get up for his own good. Not this time.


	14. Tim7

_**Tim**_

* * *

Curiosity won out again. It wouldn't hurt to at least look. It would shut the nagging in his mind up so he could die peacefully. He opened his eyes slowly. He was positioned in a way that, if he looked up, he could see behind Gibbs and out of the little den that Gibbs had apparently made.

He looked, dull green eyes scanning the landscape outside. It was surprisingly bright, thanks to the moon. The more aware he became, however, the more he hurt. But he couldn't stop looking. He had to.

Finally he saw it. A man in the rain, sheltered by a crudely made shelter, was aiming a gun straight at them. Or, more exactly, at Gibbs. He wasn't far off but he was far enough away to relatively blend into the landscape. A thousand ideas ran through Timothy's mind. He could not mention anything. Gibbs was, after all, the marine. He probably already knew the guy was there and was just waiting for the moment to act.

Or... perhaps Gibbs didn't notice. Perhaps Gibbs was to focused on something else. He could warn Gibbs. But then his boss may not hear him clearly and need Tim to repeat. Even if he was heard it would take away valuable reaction time.

Or... he could do something. It would cause him more pain and possibly get him shot in the process. He wasn't exactly up to par with his reflexes.... but it would guarantee Gibbs' safety... which was what mattered.

The man seemed to have taken good aim by now, unaware that Tim knew he was there. Tim knew he had no time to think any more about what to do. He had to make a decision... now.

With a renewed fire in his eyes which had surprised his kidnappers so long ago Tim wrenched himself out of the fogginess in his mind. He bolted upright and twisted around awkwardly, pushing Gibbs to the side and yanking the older man's backup gun from it's place in the process. It hurt, this sudden movement and awareness. Oh how did it ever hurt. In fact he wasn't sure he felt this much pain since... well... that morning when they gave him one of the most vicious sessions the whole week. It was also surprising. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have even been able to sit up before Gibbs stopped him. Gibbs was much more trained and skilled then Tim could ever dream of being. But yet he had managed to not only push Gibbs but, unthinkably, take the weapon as well. And he was hurt. He could barely breath. Yet he did it. How he did it was beyond him. (But the detached part of his mind reminded him that, perhaps, _because_ he was so hurt was the reason he had been able to do what he did. Such an act wasn't excepted of him when healthy... but now that he was hurt he could have, amazingly, caught Gibbs off guard. Not even Ziva could take Gibbs' gun. Not even Tony would be able to in as much pain as Tim was in. The geek was _certainly_ not supposed to be able to do it.)

But the pain didn't matter. The amazing act didn't matter. The thing that mattered was, as soon as he grabbed the gun with his right hand, pushing away Gibbs in the process, he finished twisting around, switching the gun to his left hand. He finished his twist by supporting himself on a knee and shot off three rounds. The other man fired once, it hit the spot Gibbs had just been and was centimeters from missing Tim himself. Tim's bullets, however, did hit the target. Or at least he was pretty sure it did. The shadow of a body seemed to be pushed back with a small cry before falling to the ground.

Tim fell to the ground as well, the fire which had temporarily lit his eyes once again extinguished. He had put to much weight on his hurt leg and it obviously didn't like the idea. His leg, once again bleeding heavily, buckled underneath him. He fell to the ground, hissing in pain as his right arm, the more injured of the two, hit the ground awkwardly. And it was already throbbing before that. When he had pushed Gibbs and yanked the gun he had used his right arm, exerting a lot of force to his arms (no thanks to the fact the gun stuck a little at first thanks to his angle) He had transferred to his left hand to shoot but the pain had already been done. To top it all off the sudden rush off awareness and energy had left him drained of energy and with a fresh pain in his body. The blissful comfort of mugginess no longer aiding him.

As he fell the gun dropped to the ground, harmless, next to him. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain, taking a gasp of breathe as he painfully landed on his chest. Any doubts that he had broken and/or cracked ribs vanished. He did.

Using the last bit of the rush of strength, which was quickly depleting, he pushed himself onto his back and started shivering. His breathing, if he could hear it for himself, was actually scary. It was much more rough and broken then seemed possible. His voice was a little stronger now but still weak and just as rough sounding as his breathing, "I-I'm cold, B-boss."

He closed his eyes again as another heavy shiver of pain and cold wracked his body. But he had to tell Gibbs something. Maybe he couldn't elaborate but he could say enough which Gibbs could then work with. He opened his dull eyes again and glanced over at Gibbs, "Th-they're not a-alone." He licked his dry lips trying to think of a way to explain it. His mind wasn't quite up to speed and was working a lot slower then it used to. He also wasn't sure he could hold on much longer. "Th-they hunted down Thomson... tortured him for information which he didn't give. Th-then killed him. They w-wanted to know codes. B-Big organization. Other lo-locations. M-many at risk." His words were forced out between gasps. Talking hurt worse then breathing.

He closed his eyes again as a fresh wave of pain flared up without reason. He coughed, sounding more like the wheeze of a dying man rather then just clearing the throat. His head ached quite a bit. Not really as bad as anything else but it still hurt from where his head had hit that rock earlier. His voice got softer as he started drifting into darkness once more. "I didn't tell them, Boss. The codes... I didn't tell them." He let out a weak breath. So cold... so weak... so tired. Gibbs said he didn't want him to give up. But the situation seemed pointless. Even if he _did_ manage to survive the woods there was so much wrong with his body. They hurt him so bad. Internal... external... everything. To make it worse... these people were hunting him. They were out there. Not only this group that had kidnapped Tim... but it was an organization. They knew of Tim and what knowledge he had. The would want him dead. They hunted down Thomson. They killed his family on the off chance they knew something. They'd hunt down Tim... no question. And that could hurt others... like it had hurt Thomson's family. That was no good.

Even more... Gibbs was injured... that much Tim could tell. If Tim stayed alive Gibbs would try to keep him alive and safe... even at risk to himself. It didn't really occur to Tim that Gibbs knew of the danger and long ago accepted it. He didn't think his boss cared enough. But even if the older man _didn't_ care... Tim did. He didn't want his boss to get killed simply because he was alive. He had told Gibbs that there were others. That was what was important. He did what he could do. His driving force to even stay alive in the first place was finished, "Sorry Boss."


	15. Gibbs7

**_Gibbs_**

* * *

All of Jethro's attention was focused on McGee, trying to keep the man alive. It seemed the more he tried to take care of one wound another looked more severe. He knew the man needed proper medical attention but he just couldn't get him there yet. Listening to the sounds around him, Jethro didn't hear the man off in the slight distance. That didn't mean he couldn't feel the eyes on him. But that fatherly protective side of his had kicked in. Hearing the apology from McGee Jethro frowned and not because of him saying sorry either. He felt the man had no reason what so ever to say sorry. He didn't even respond to that, had nothing he could really say to make anything better for him. It wasn't his style to be the most comforting, soft man that lived. He gave everyone tough love, with the exception of Abby. As Ducky had said, it wasn't clear if the man was capable of any other kind of love anymore.

Trying to stop the bleeding in McGee's leg, Jethro tore off a piece of his shirt. As he was wrapping it around the man's leg, Jethro heard the snap of a twig under foot. When he was about to react he felt himself being shoved backwards. It was like time stood still for a moment and slowed down to a snail crawl. He felt himself fall back against the small fire behind him, but he managed to twist a bit so he didn't land in it, but he felt the burning against his hand. The hiss of wet bloody skin, McGee's blood, was heard but most importantly, Jethro found McGee grabbing his gun. Bad move for anyone to do in any other circumstance. He twists and turns scampering to get away from the bullet hearing the shot before feeling the dirt spray up beside him where the bullet hit. He glances out grabbing his glock from the waist of his pants just as McGee squeezed off the three round hitting the man. Before any more words could be said Jethro slips out of the little den seeing McGee roll over onto his back. He crawls out on his stomach quickly almost animal like going to where the man who was hit lay. He wasn't dead, but mortally wounded. He was still gasping for breath when Jethro got to him. A radio in hand.

"Where are they?"

Jethro asks in a whisper like growl. The man gurgles blood panting trying to speak and breath at the same time.

"Go....to.....hell.."

He spits at him, hand clutching the radio tightly. Pulling the radio to his mouth the man gets a few words out.

"Target is alive, two men..."

Jethro pulls the trigger shooting the man between the eyes at close range. If the man got any more words out they would be certain to be hunted down and killed before day light.

The rain, freezing against Jethro's arms and neck was barely felt with the anger that filled Jethro's veins right now. He walks back over to McGee doing his best to avoid revealing his injury to anyone who may be still out there watching. He couldn't just sit there and wait for the next man to come after them. It was time for him to change the tables and switch the hunt. Jethro was more than capable of doing so, going into the darkness and kill those trying to kill him. It would be a huge risk to take, sacrificing himself to save McGee.

Crawling back into the little den like area Jethro sits down beside McGee, blood spattered on him, but no longer McGee's. The man he had killed's blood was on his hands. He had looked for ID or anything to lead them closer to who was behind this all. He sets the radio down with hopes the hunters would talk between each other giving him their locations. He takes only a moment, just a moment to catch his breath again looking back to McGee hearing him speak. He shifts moving closer to him again taking the gun from his hands and setting it aside. He listens to the man speak as he tends to the injuries once again. Bandaging up open wounds with cloth from his own shirt. Splinting McGee's arm with wood and his belt. Cold, yes Jethro felt it but he had learned many years ago how to ignore it and use it to his advantage. He didn't shiver and his teeth didn't chatter. Many thoughts were going through his mind right now. He was saddened by the sight and demeanor of McGee right now. Sensing he was at the point of giving up. Comforting words of saying you will be okay were not enough right now. He knew he could hear him he knew the man could understand him. Jethro leans in closer wiping blood and dirt off the man's head with a cool rain dampened cloth.

"You did good Timothy, you did me proud. Now do one more thing, you survive. You fight temptation. It might feel like the way out but remember each bit of pain you feel now is triumph payment for still being alive. Accept death and they win. You fight Timothy, you fight."

His words were not stern and they were not harsh. They were quite… soft even coming from his gruff cold voice. Emotion was behind the voice and in his soft blue hues. If only for that brief moment before survival kicked in.

Satisfied that he had done what he could for the visible injuries, Jethro had to deal with his own leg right now. He couldn't save McGee if he bled to death out there or got some infection that clouded his mind. He moves a bit closer to the fire and pulls back the fabric of his black dress pants and looks at the wound. It wasn't large on the front but he found the exit wound was bigger. He could easily bleed to death if he didn't tend to it now. Grabbing his jacket he pulls out a shell for his rifle, he had plenty of ammo, and then gets out his Marine knife. He picks up a rock and sets it beside himself tapping off the end of the shell with the knife. He tips it up so no gunpowder fell out of the shell and glances at McGee to make sure he was still breathing. He pours the gun powder into the wound grimacing a bit at the feel of it stinging. It was the only way to seal the bleeding veins and tissue. He picks up two little pieces of wood, one was in the fire the other lay by from a alder. He places the alder stick into his mouth and braces himself lighting the gun powder. He makes no sounds of pain biting down hard onto the stick sinking his teeth deeply into it. The crackle and hiss of gun powder and flesh make light sounds in the now quiet woods. All else that could be heard was the cold rain falling down around them. Letting his head fall back against a root, Jethro spits out the twig letting his hand drop down beside himself again, knife in hand. It hurt like a son of a bitch but it felt better now that the powder was burnt the entire way through. The bleeding was stopped for now. As long as he didn't sustain a blow to his leg it would stay cauterized.

Sitting in silence for a few more moments, Jethro makes sure McGee is out of the rain and douses the fire. He knew the man needed it, but it would only give way to their location quicker. Kicking the embers making sure it was out the rest of the way, Jethro stands tall for a moment looking out in the darkness. He had no shirt on any longer having used it to bandage McGee up. His jacket he left draped over McGee to try and keep him warm. Grabbing more of the brush he had piled he tucks McGee in with it making him virtually invisible. He needed to get word for help. Let the team know there were more people out there that this was not a small little occurrence. To leave McGee was dangerous, but he wasn't leaving him out in the open and unarmed. He moves back over to the man and places an ice cold hand against his flesh again checking his pulse once more before putting it against his brow.

"Don't you move from this spot."

He picks up the man's hand gently and places the gun in it.

"Anyone at all comes near you fire, don't hesitate just fire. I will be back."


	16. Gibbs8

_**Gibbs**_

* * *

When Jethro said he would do something he would. His blue hues were darkened and more silver now with jet black pupils. If one could see the look on his face they would be frightened. That dangerous Marine side of him was on over drive right now. It was kill or be killed and be damned he was going to let anything more happen to McGee. He would give his life if only to make one call and save McGee's. That's how he was and how he would always be. He tucks his cell into McGee's pocket, GPS obviously built right into the thing. At least he could have that one little ray of hope that Abby could track the signal and find him. Miracles of technology… even if the phone died the GPS chip would still blip off a signal. He had the radio in hand and knew the frequencies of NCIS and others he could call. He didn't need a cell phone to make connection he just needed to find some of these 'hunters' and take them out before _they_ were taken out.

Giving McGee one more look Jethro slips off into the rain and darkness. In seconds he was no longer in view. Leaving McGee there alone was hard for him to do, he constantly worried about the man. Worried he wouldn't make it… No. He was strong willed… strong hearted… he will not disobey an order. . He WILL make it . He was so proud of McGee for being alive. For fighting this long. Jethro had faith and hope in him knowing he would make it. He would make sure of it. His own life, that was forfeit years ago he was just living on borrowed time now. He had cheated death so many times and in so many ways. He wasn't asking for death but if death found him he would give it one hell of a fight before it won him over.

Stalking through the night, chilled to the bone, Jethro was dieing driven by the will to save. The want to make sure McGee made it out of there alive. Anger filled his heart right now for what was done to one of his family members. Even if no one knew how he felt for people, he did. He cared deeply for each and every member on the team. He had gone there to save McGee… not bring in any bad guys. He would have shot both men if given a chance, ruin the case just to save McGee's life.

Spotting one man taking a leak behind a bush, Jethro pulls out his knife he could feel there was another man out there. His body was muddy now and he blended in with his surrounding. He knew how to become one with the woods. His feet made no sounds as he snuck up behind one man. The man picks up his shot gun again unaware of his impending death. With one quick movement the man's throat was slit and Jethro lays him down softly not wanting to make a sound. He slips off into the bushes again, finding another man not to far off. A light woosh and whistle like sound caught the man's ears and he turns his head. A mistake on his part. Jethro's knife lands straight in the man's throat. Sputtering the man goes down. Two down. He could now make the call. Taking his knife wiping off the blood he sets back towards McGee setting traps along the way. He makes a pit fall out of a small hole that was left behind by a bear attempting to make a den by an old tree. He grabs a few alders and sharpens the ends, jabbing them into the ground so if one were to fall they would be speared. He covers it with brush and moss and keeps going. The entire perimeter of the site around where he had left McGee was now set with traps he had made by hand. It took two hours or more to do all this but it should keep people out long enough for them both to survive till day light. He stands tall radioing in to NCIS.

"This is Special Agent Gibbs calling for aid."

Static on the other end.

"I repeat this is Special Agent Gibbs I am in need of emergency back up."

"Agent Gibbs, this is Stevensens from MTAC, I read you loud and clear now. What is your position?"

"Have Abby Scuito track my cell phone and it will give you co ordinance. I have a severely wounded agent.."

"Gibbs? Where the hell are you."

"Vance not now, I need.."

"I don't give a damn what you need Gibbs, do you have any idea what mess you are causing right now."

"Get me the damn back up Vance, my agent doesn't have the time to deal with your bull shit. Track my cell and get a damn rescue team out here."

Jethro ends the message by crushing the radio. He didn't need the criminals tracking him by it. The weapons from the two he had killed were slung over his shoulder as he makes his way back towards McGee.


	17. Tim8

**_Tim_**

* * *

Tim could feel himself falling even faster into the dark abyss of nothing. Unfortunately he was, yet again, halted. It was, in a way, a bit aggravating. Every time he had tried to let the pain go away he was jutted back to reality again by one thing or another. This time it was Gibbs. He was talking to him at close range. Slowly Tim became a little more aware as Gibbs whipped his head a bit as he spoke.

Tim felt surprised. Gibbs said he did good. Gibbs said he was proud. Gibbs ever said things like that. But Gibbs wanted Tim to do an unthinkable act. He wanted Tim to survive and fight back. But Tim had done so much fighting… survived so long already. Did Gibbs really think Tim could make it any further? He wasn't that strong.

But he was in no position to say no. Gibbs was right… in a way. If Tim died, at least in these woods, those wanting him dead would have won. He didn't want these people to win. He still had information Gibbs should know which would help take down the rest of the organization. He had to stay alive… to beat these people.

It took Tim all the strength he had to push the comforting warmth of death further away. The cold was coming back… the pain was back. Death seemed to be getting more intent on taking Tim… obvious sign that Tim needed help… fast. It was hard and took so much energy for Tim to keep death at bay.

Suddenly Tim could smell the stench and hear the sound of burning flesh. He whimpered a bit, barely audible. They had burnt him. That was one of their favorite things. They cauterized some of his wounds at the beginning so he didn't bleed to death on them. They used fire as well as plain hot metal. At first he had stayed strong. But after getting burnt for the fourth day in a row it became to much.

A few moments later he could feel his body being tucked away. It was strange… all that Gibbs was doing for him. Why was he doing it? It made no sense.

He heard the order. The only response he could give, however, was just tightening his hand around the gun, letting his finger rest on the trigger.

A few moments later Tim felt alone again. The darkness tried it's damnedest to set in him he fought it off. He didn't want to die. It seemed like the only option but he couldn't disobey Gibbs' order. So he wouldn't die… not now.

He shivered a bit, trying to shift his body. His breath hitched in pain for a moment but stopped in mid-breath. He heard someone. Someone was out there.

His green eyes snapped open, not quite as dull as before. Now they had a small ember of flame again. With a shaking hand he tightened his grip around the gun. He needed to know where the person was before he could fire. Otherwise the outcome could be very bad.

Seconds later a man jumped out of the darkness at him. The person had a knife raised, glistening in the rain, and aimed straight for Tim. Tim barely had time to raise the gun before he pulled the trigger.

The man fell. Tim felt a painful weight crash down on his already beaten body. He cried out a bit before shoving the body off of him with a grunt. He pushed himself back (and consequently out of the den and into the rain) as he leaned heavily against the tree root. That was a very harsh awakening and the pain was back full force. But the mugginess in his mind was dissipating. He pushed the body over and didn't recognize the face. He just knew they were obviously there to kill him.

There was more rustling somewhere behind him. He fired as he turned but was pretty sure he had missed. "Who's there?" His voice, remarkably, didn't show the pain or weakness his body and mind felt. Of course that cost him great deals of pain. He prepared himself to pull the trigger again.


	18. Gibbs9

_**Gibbs**_

* * *

Hearing the gun shot as he came out of the forest into that slight little clearing by the 'den', Jethro moved quicker fearing the worst. When he heard the second shot and felt the sting against the side of his bicep, Jethro was about to take aim and fire back but he heard the voice.

"It's me McGee, don't pull the trigger." Jethro said in his usual relaxed tone. He didn't want to frighten McGee of have him fearing anything else. He knew there was no way what so ever to get him out of the woods at night. There were too many dangers. Jethro would have to carry him and he couldn't carry him and watch out for the killers at the same time. How many were there? Too many, he knew that was for sure. They were out numbered and death was closing in on both of them.

The fresh wound against his bicep wasn't all that bad. To him it was a cat scratch to anyone else they would be in deathly agonizing pain right now. It didn't bother him what so ever. He comes into view keeping his gun in hand. He looks at the deceased then back at McGee.

"Get back down there. It's safer now." He figured the other man must have slipped through before his traps were set. He places an arm around McGee and lifts him a bit to put him gently back down into their little den out of the rain. Once he gets the man tucked in again he flops down against the ground himself panting a bit. It took a lot of strength for him to be doing what he was doing, but he wouldn't stop. That was clear. McGee would make it out he would not settle for anything less.

"Just stay still, don't over exert what little bit of life you have left." Jethro speaks in a quite voice to him. He wipes the water off his own face, his silver hair dripping wet. His breath plums above his head in the freezing night air. The rain had slowed to a slight freezing drizzle, now replaced with the small little flakes falling down.

The cold was starting to set into Jethro's body but his senses were more alert than they had been in years. He dared not close his eyes, if he did so he may sleep. Sleep would mean his body would slow down and he would surely slip into hypothermia and die. Alone, yes he may have just allowed it. Not now, not with McGee's life hanging in the balance. Off in the distance, after about an hour the sound of a loud scream echoed through. Jethro smirks a bit to himself. One more down… a trap had worked.

He glances over at McGee. He watches him now, ears still trained on the bushes. He keeps a very close eye on him. Watching his raged breathing, watching the painful look on his face. Had he been a normal man he would sit closer, kind of cuddle against him to share body heat, but Jethro was one of the most solitary creatures to walk the planet. He had given the man his jacket and covered him in brush, once again, he did all he could right now.


	19. Gibbs10

_**Gibbs**_

* * *

The snow stops falling as the clouds part away from the moon. Silence, too quite. Jethro stands. He could feel something was about to happen. He gets out his gun and cocks it.

Quietly he slips out of the den, shivering slightly as he was now unable to control it. He fades into the darkness before the moon comes out full. A figure starts to draw near. Silently and quietly. The man looks at McGee and lets out a small laugh. "Your friend didn't make it I see. Time for you to say good night."

"Not hardly, it's your turn." Jethro slugs the man in the face with a large branch. The man goes down but Jethro's freezing body was slow to react as another man comes at him from behind, hitting him against the side, then the stomach over and over. The other man shakes off the hit, both thought McGee was too weak to aid Jethro in any way. They continue to beat on Jethro, pounding with a hard force with each hit. Jethro fights back swinging and hitting, missing a few times.

He ducks out of the way pulling out his gun. He squeezes off a few rounds hitting one man in the foot. The other clubs him hard with stick. Jethro shakes his head a bit fighting off the stars of unconsciousness that threatened him. He tackles the man and the next ting that is heard is the sound of two men falling and a gun shot. Then silence for a minute or less before the man with the shot foot hobbles to his feet.

"This ends now, no more games, no more traps. No more people to save you. "The man growls nastily at McGee cocking the gun ready to shoot. Out of no where, like a flash of lightening or a wolf out of the woods a figure grabs the man knocking him down. There are sounds of struggle in the darkness. Wheezing from someone struggling to breath. The sounds of someone wriggling against the dirt then silence again. Silence, that was all that filled to woods. The light sound of the wind blew through the trees. An owl hoots, a wolf howls but there is no signs of life outside that little den.


	20. Tim9

_**Tim**_

* * *

Tim tensed, preparing to pull the trigger again. But then the man spoke. It was Gibbs. Tim dropped his arm to the ground but didn't let go of the gun.

Tim watched weakly as Gibbs came into view. He saw the graze from where the bullet had passed. His eyes widened as he realized that he had caused that. Now that the adrenaline rush was starting to fade his voice became weaker, though not as much as before thanks to the lingering adrenaline. "B-boss. I h-hit you."

As Gibbs moved him back into the safety and relative warmth of the den he couldn't help but feel a little aggravated. He could hardly move. He couldn't even help shift his position as Gibbs moved him back into the den and covered him up. Gibbs was hurt and Tim could do nothing about it.

He obeyed Gibbs' instruction to not expend what little life he had left. And little life was right. The energy he had used with what just happened was unthinkable. And, partially thanks to the man having fallen on him, the pain was fresh and raw. He wished the pain would stop... just end. After a week of torture he couldn't take the pain much more. He actually had forgotten what it was like to not hurt.

But he couldn't let the numbness set in. He had to follow the order. Gibbs was doing so much to keep him alive. For what reason he wasn't sure. But because of this he had to try to stay alive for at least a little longer.

For an hour they remained silent. Tim was busy trying to fight off the darkness alone. He had tried to keep his eyes open but couldn't after a while. Death was quickly getting its hold again. Had Tim been letting it as he had a few hours earlier he'd have defiantly been dead by now. That much was apparent on his face. The jacket and den could only fight away so much cold. But, thanks to having lost so much blood his body temperature was low enough already. Then mixed with the cold night it was nearly deadly. And would be if help didn't hurry.

He heard a scream in the distance and snapped his eyes open. The pain was no less than it had been before but if he kept perfectly still it didn't flare up anywhere. Not like that was saying much, however. All the pain he'd ever felt in the world meshed as one would hardly be a paper cut to this. And he had his share of pain in his life... he was in his thirties after all. He'd been shot... mauled by an animal... broken limbs. Even been in a nearly deadly car crash which had sent him into a coma for a week. But that was nothing compared to this. Even a well trained man would find the pain unbearable, not to even mention actually having gotten tortured.

Tim felt the darkness start setting in again. He knew he was going to lose unless he could fight if off. He decided trying to engage his ever growing fuzzy mind. There was a question which still bothering him. His confidence had never been large but, had he been dying in the woods a week ago, he'd at least be able to tell Gibbs cared about him enough to rescue him. Now, though.... now he couldn't see that. His captors had hurt him more then he thought. He truly could not see how Gibbs could possibly care about his welfare. He couldn't see how anyone could care... especially Gibbs. And especially enough to risk themselves this much to rescue him.

He kept his voice quiet not like he'd be able to raise it much anyway. "W-Why Boss?" He paused. That question should have elaboration. Why could be in reference to a lot of things right now. But his muddled mind couldn't think of a way to word it so be didn't bother trying. He simply went on to fight off another wave of blackness, "They hurt me Boss.... Like th-they hurt Thomson."

He couldn't wait for a reply as he drifted down again. Though this time the pain didn't lessen. Normally when he blacked out the pain dulled but not this time. He held onto the feeling. The pain was the only thing keeping death at bay at this point.

The voice above him woke him up once more. He shivered in the cold and pain but didn't bother reacting. He just stared up waiting for his fate. Even if he could have moved a muscle he was in no angle to get a decent shot.

It didn't really matter as Gibbs attacked the man. Tim watched, in horror, as the fight took place in front of him. His body couldn't seem to move. It was like a semi-truck was parked on top of him. He swore to himself as the two men ganged up on Gibbs. His pain was momentarily replaced by anger. Anger at the men for ganging up against Gibbs and even more anger at his own weakness preventing him from doing anything.

In slow motion he watched the man with the shot foot take aim. Yet again he couldn't stop it. And yet again Gibbs came from the shadows.

More struggling... then silence.

Tim's heart beat faster then he thought would be healthy for his body's condition. It would warm him up but make his injuries bleed quicker. Was everyone dead? Did Gibbs kill both before dying himself? Tim couldn't bear to think of it... if Gibbs died protecting him... Tim knew he couldn't live with that fact... even if his body could make it.

But no... Not everyone was dead. In the darkness only a few feet in front of him Tim could see one of the attackers stand. He was obviously mortally wounded with a bullet hole in his chest. That was probably the shot that had rang out before the other one had nearly killed Tim. The man picked a gun off the ground and pointed it where, as Tim suspected, Gibbs probably lay. "You've been getting in the way to much old man. You first."

Yet again Tim was faced with the need to make a decision nearly faster than he could handle.

He could yell out. Perhaps get the man's attention away from Gibbs. It would save Gibbs... if he was actually alive. No... Gibbs is alive. The man wouldn't waste a bullet on a dead man.

Of course that could just lead to the man killing Gibbs anyway and knowing for sure Tim was alive.

He could try to shoot the man. But... his angle in the den was bad. The guy was close but Tim would be lucky to graze the guy's leg.

He could do nothing... pretend to be dead and hope the guy passed him up. Perhaps Gibbs was waiting for the right moment to act.

He heard the click as the ma readied the gun. No more time to make the decision. Time was to act.

Feeling like he was pushing a cement truck Tim forced himself to his feet and out of the den. It was a miracle his legs were supporting him... but that was defiantly thanks to adrenaline.

The man was momentarily caught off guard by the dying man's act. It caused him to pause which was just enough time.

Tim lunged forward. True it was actually more of a stumble but he had intended to crash into the man. And he did. The force knocked the man back and the gun out of his hand. Both tumbled to the ground painfully.

Tim knew he couldn't stand again so didn't even try as the man stood again with hate in his eyes. Tim grabbed the gun as he rolled onto his back. Somehow he managed to pull the trigger once before the man could attack. The bullet hit the guy in the chest, killing him in seconds.

Tim gasped painfully, attention no longer on the man. He could taste blood in his mouth but wasn't certain why... be it some internal injury or a simple cut in his mouth. It didn't matter though. He pulled himself closer to Gibbs, "Boss... Boss!"

Tim could hear more voices. He realized for the first time that it wasn't as dark as it had been. It was certainly not day yet... but the sun was probably just starting to rise. The voices he heard seemed somewhat familiar. But that didn't matter. He couldn't trust his ears.

It didn't really matter. Death was taking its opportunity. Tim had hurt himself during his little act of heroism and death wanted to be sure he'd pay for it. It wouldn't let the kid go that easily.

Tim couldn't keep himself up and continued to lie on his back, the one position that upset the least of his freshly opened injuries. He grabbed the gun again as someone started coming through he bushes and he took a blind shot at the sound, pretty certain it would miss. It didn't matter... he'd try. Gibbs had done so much for him tonight. Tim thought it was about time he did something himself... even though he was sure it couldn't be much. He wasn't even sure if Gibbs was alive...dead... conscious... unconscious. All he knew was Gibbs was hurt even before the most recent attack. He'd be much worse off now if he was still alive. Tim refused to sit around and make Gibbs fend for himself.

The owner of the voice, having barely dodged the bullet, came through the brush, gun aimed and ready to fire at whoever had fired at him. Tim prepared to pull the trigger again but then saw who it was. Another face he didn't think would possibly care. A face he'd never think he'd see again. "Tony?"

Finally the darkness crashed down upon him, knowing that it would have a harder time of taking Tim if the kid could make it out of the woods. The arm holding the gun fell to the ground as he blacked out. He couldn't fight away death. He'd disappoint Gibbs but couldn't help it. The pain roared in his mind and body for a moment before the warmth and numbness quickly started setting in.


	21. Gibbs11

**_Gibbs_**

* * *

Feeling something, unsure of what it was, putting pressure against his chest, Jethro remains completely still The pressure was so intense he could barely breath right now. He gasps for air lightly in the silence. He could hear the man speak and feel him slipping away from him, leaving Jethro face down against a pile of leaves. His body felt like it was paralyzed as if each effort for his lungs to expand to take a breath, each bit of movement his heart made to let the blood flow through it made it feel like he was running on a treadmill at top speed in the arctic. As if in slow motion Jethro moves his arm out from under himself. He could hear the commotion around him, but it was all muffled like someone had covered his ears and face so he couldn't hear. He heard something about an old man and then heard the sound of what sounded like gun fire. Then just like having his ears unplugged and a radio blaring into his ears, the sounds came back to him. The loud pounding of his heart and the sounds of the wind were so clear to him right now.

The numbness seemed to stay though for a little while trying to breath. He heard McGee speak to him but right now he couldn't reply. _Why_ was the question. He was fully aware of everything around him, but he just couldn't react at the moment. The only movement he seemed to have right now was his arm that was slowly making it's way out from under himself. He could hear the foot steps, loud ones as if someone wasn't trying to stay hidden or surprise them with an attack. He had to pull it together and do something. McGee was right beside him, he knew it and could feel it. He turns his head to the side a bit, bloodied and battered. His nose was clearly broken, lips split and eyes nearly swollen shut. His head was bleeding from the bullet graze and the several blows to it. His vision was extremely blurred at the moment and he could barely make out that it was in fact McGee beside him like he had thought.

"Tim..." The name barely slipped from his lips replying back to the boy that he was alive, but he feared he was too late. He had failed him. He musters up what strength he had left from the battle and pushes himself up. The effort was nearly enough to make him keel over and just let the darkness consume him, but he fought it. He would not give in. Not when the thereat was still out there. He didn't know who was coming near, he had no clue if it was friend or foe and with how the night had been going it was more likely to be foe.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Jethro nearly loses grip and buckles feeling his leg sting like it was being torn off him. He glances down seeing the blood dripping out once again. The struggle had reopened his wound. He didn't notice that his hand was on his chest at the moment. He could still feel that pressure causing him to feel like a hippo was sitting on him still. His side was bruised but the mud covered it. He had scrapes and cuts all over his body from branches, kicks, hits and the fall. But what bothered him the most was his chest. Now standing upright like some beast who had won the fight, Jethro holds his gun in hand. Moving his fingers on his chest he could feel something cold, colder than his own skin right now mixed with the heat of something soft and warm. Moving his hand he looks at it seeing blood then he realized what that pressure was. A knife, long Marine issue was sticking out of his bare chest. His own, they had tried to kill him with his own knife.

Had it been any other person they would be freaking out right now. Not Jethro. As if he had just lost the rest of his marbles he chuckles cocking the gun making sure there was a bullet in the chamber. The irony of it all, the knife, the fight all of it was getting to him. He turns around about to fire a kill shot or be killed when he comes face to face with someone he did not expect to see.

"Woah there boss....McGee....stop shooting at me! I come in pea...." Tony said no more when he saw the condition they both were in. He wasn't sure who to go to first. Big Marine man standing all muddy and bloody with a look on his face only Jack the Ripper would be pleased with… or the poor, innocent, battered, half dead man… or dead, he wasn't sure, laying on the ground. He quickly made his call and slides down onto the ground beside McGee. 'Oh man...what did they do to you Probie...?"

"I thought I was the probie now Tony." Ziva's voice could be heard coming out of the brush off to the side.

"Yeah well...I think that should be left aside right now." Tony puts a hand on McGee's neck to feel for a pulse… he looked dead to him right now. Ziva goes to Jethro's side and takes the gun from his hand looking at the knife with fear in her eyes. "Gibbs, Gibbs what the hell happened here."

"I'll explain later." Jethro replies calm as a cucumber as if nothing was wrong with him. His breath was labored, nearly a wheeze. Even if his leg was killing him and each breath felt like his lungs were being torn to shreds his own well being was the least of his concerns. He places a hand against the tree looking over at McGee. "You brought back up right?"

"Ummmm...." Tony and Ziva glanced at each other… knowing Gibbs would not like the answer.

"Umm is not what I want to hear right now."

Ziva sighed, "Vance wouldn't give in, he said it wasn't necessary to send a full blown team out after you until he got confirmation that it was safe enough. His plan was to wait for morning."

"Yeah, wait and we would have been too late, if we aren't already." Tony barely says his last words. Jethro moves away from the tree his leg finally buckling out from under him. Ziva went to help him, but her efforts were stopped by a quick look from him. "I don't need help, he does."

"I think that knife says other wise...boss." Ziva adds in his title so she wouldn't get angry.

Getting out his cell, Tony felt responsible for most of this in many ways. He calls in for a med evac., giving their location. It wasn't long and the helicopter could be heard. Jethro sits back against the tree after accepting the jacket from Tony. Both Ziva and Tony were not sure what to do right now. Both looked like they were on borrowed time and McGee… well he looked like he could die at any second. Jethro, he refused to move any further away from McGee and he refused any help. Even if he had blood seeping out of his nose and mouth right now. He didn't care, all he worried about was McGee right now. He takes the boys hand in his ice cold bloody one for a moment and uses the last bit of his strength to lean over and whisper to him.

"You were given and order Timothy and you damn well want to obey it." He didn't know if he could hear him or not, but be damned he would let him slip away like this. And not for information or evidence for the case. McGee's life was more important to him than any case… any job or even his own life and he had proven that.

The helicopter lands off in a clearing and the medics come rushing out. First the try to attend to Jethro but a weak glare sent them to McGee where they started their work on him. Another comes to Jethro more concerned about the knife than anything else. Even though Jethro didn't seem to be complaining about any of it. He refused to be put on any stretcher but did accept a bit of help to his feet and to the helicopter. It took all he had and all his dignity to actually make it to the helicopter without keeling over. By the time McGee and Jethro were loaded on and the machine started to take off the back up that Vance finally sent was just making it into the area where Ziva and Tony stood watching their friends being taken away. Their fate was uncertain for both of them. With a worried glance between the two, Ziva and Tony start there way back out of the woods. This mess would be taken care of (the dead people and all that) by the men and women now in the woods.


	22. Reminder

**Just a reminder…**

Just wanted to remind everyone of something… kinda like an intermission in a radio program to remind you.

Remember… If the post said _**Tim**_ at the top then I wrote that chapter… and if it says _**Gibbs**_ my… co-writer, so to speak wrote it. I am going over everything from both of us to fix or rearrange a couple words or sentences and to break up longer posts into multiple chapters... but for the most part I'm not doing much. So do keep this in mind for comments and things.

Also… As this is an **_RP_** and not a fanfic it is souly done for our pleasure and fun so inaccuracies of data isn't much of a concern to us.

Also with it being an RP we don't have any idea of things that are going to happen next.. which explains why some things are mentioned and never touched on again and other things seem to change a bit… we are trying to keep the setting accurate but might mess up now and again.

_ALSO_ with it being an RP it's a very long lasting thing. Usually my RPs don't have endings but this might… though we'll start another RP in this story line once we have to sadly finish this particular story up.


	23. Tim10

**_Tim_**

* * *

Tim could hear strange mumbles and things from beyond the veil of blackness. But that blackness was so crushing that it muted everything too much to make anything out. There were bits and parts that _almost_ made words... but not quite. He felt like he was floating into the nothiness. That nothing suddenly morphed in front of him.

He could still feel pain but there seemed a bit less. He looked forward. There was a path that stretched out ahead of him. It made rolling waves but essentially lead him in one direction. It wasn't quite solid... it was worn and had little rocks litter parts but in essence it was a beautiful road. It seemed to be natural and real with its little imperfections yet had that gentle walk a manmade path would have.

The path seemed to cut through a nice valley. Lush green trees stood strong here and there in the valley. The grass was the most beautiful and healthy green he had ever seen. He didn't really see them but knew that small gentle flowers specked the ocean of grass, which created waves with each soft gust of warm breeze. To either side of the valley majestic mountains rose to the clouds as if encompassing the valley and protecting it from the outside.

The sun warmed Tim's face as he walked on, seeming to melt the pain away with each step. He could feel he was being a bit naughty as he walked on this path. More importantly then that he could feel the pain being left behind. The pain didn't want to follow this path... which was fine by him. He didn't want to turn back. The beginning of the path had pain and suffering. He liked it here and the unspoken promise the path seemed to have that the pain wouldn't return if he continued on.

The path seemed to continue on till he was nearly beside one of the mountains. A very short distance ahead the path seemed to continue and disappear through the mountains. He knew that if he entered there then there would be no going back. The path would be broken and there would be no turning around. But he didn't really care. He wanted to continue on. He wanted the path to be broken... to leave the pain, suffering, loneliness and everything else forever.

Suddenly he heard something. It was strange to hear something. There wasn't supposed to be sound in this place. It was very faint and came from the path's beginning. At this point it was hardly a mumbling whisper. But it was there. It was intent. At that point he had a feeling that he was doing something very bad. He knew he wasn't supposed to follow this path but liked it... he wanted to . But that sound... that voice. He couldn't make out the words but it gave him the impression that he really should not go any further forward.

He turned, glancing to the beginning of the path and towards the voice. Then forward again. The entrance into the dark mountain was right in front of him. less then inches even. Less then a step and he could finally be free. Never feel the pain.. the terror.... the loneliness. It was so tempting. So very tempting.

Tim waved his hand into the side of the mountain. The blackness of the path shadowed his hand as it entered the mountain completely. But it felt so good. So very good. It was bliss. Not just what pretended to be bliss in the land of the living. No.. it was total and complete bliss. He felt his weight shifting, wanting more of the feeling.

* * *

"Clear!" *zap* "....Nothing! Again!" "Clear!" *zap*

The air ambulance doctors were racing. They hadn't reached the hospital yet but the one named McGee was in bad shape. Whoever had... done what they did to him.... they knew what they were doing. His injuries were not severe immediately after receiving them... but the way they were seemed to be like insurance had he gotten away. They were bad now. Infection... punctured lung... almost no spare blood... mild concussion.... and that wasn't even a fraction of the problems...this kid was in bad shape. Jim, the senior of the two, had been at his job for countless years. He'd seen a lot of people in bad shape. _Really_ bad shape. All of the ones who even came close to as bad as this one... were usually dead by the time they got there. And the few that managed to make it onto the helicopter generally died before getting to the hospital. He didn't recall a single patient that survived this many problems of this severity. Needless to say he didn't expect the kid could make it..... but he'd be damned it he'd let the kid go without a fight. Especially with the older man who they had also retrieved breathing down his neck.

"Clear" *zap*

* * *

Tim thought about that voice again. Even as he slowly made his way into the bliss he couldn't help but feel very bad for doing so. That voice... it was nagging on his brain. Though he hadn't heard the voice again since it still seemed to echo through out the plains. It didn't want him going into the mountains. He knew he should listen to that voice.

With unbelieveable force he wrenched the half of his body from the mountainside. It seemed nearly impossible. He turned to go back on the path... leave the mountains. But... it felt like his leg had been turned to led. It was nearly impossible to move it. The entire world seemed to crush down on him, pressing him flat onto the ground. He couldn't stand... couldn't even kneel. Just about all he could do was snake his hand forward and dig his nails into the ground. The ground seemed to smooth and flat to get a grip with his actual fingers... only his nails could find platform.

He sunk his nails into the rocky ground and pulled himself forward. It was so hard and easy to loose grip. But there was no other way and he knew he had to listen to it.

* * *

"Clear!" *zap* ".... " "Well?" "... I got something. It's faint but it's there." "Ok! Get me another unit of blood."

* * *

Tim inched forward. The path was no longer pretty as he looked this way. But at a glance behind it still was inviting in that direction. He continued his path.

After only about three feet he had to stop and pant. It was so hard. Impossible. The further back he went on the path the more pain he was hit with, making it even harder. He chanced a glance back and realized, in horror, that he was no further away from the opening of the cave. It was still right near his feet. But yet he _had_ moved.

At that point he realized, as he stared back, that the mountains seemed to be eating up the path. It was moving forward. if he stayed still he'd enter it. If he slipped back he would enter it. He had to move forward and couldn't afford ad break. With a deep breath he started again


	24. Tim11

**_Tim_**

* * *

Tony didn't even speak as he handed the keys over to Ziva. He was in no mood to drive. Ziva gave him a slightly confused look but didn't say anything until they were speeding down the streets to get to the hospital which McGee and Gibbs would be sent to.

"Tony... I believe this is the first time you have ever offered for me to drive." She swerved sharply to go past a car [which had been going well above the speed limit itself]

Tony didn't really react to the careless driving. He was to busy thinking about something else.

Ziva glanced over at Tony again,. giving an even more confused look, "I do not believe I've ever seen that particular expression on your face before, Tony. It seems to be thoughtful... mixed with grief."

Tony rubbed his forehead. "Drop it Ziva."

Somehow Ziva knew that pestering about this would not lead to any good. She would have to wait and figure out what was wrong in time.

Tony let himself into thoughts again. He was of course worried about his boss and McGee. But, with that, he felt guilty.

Firstly he felt guilty about McGee being in this mess in the first place. Because of the level of encryption Vance had considered sending it down to the official computer geeks to crack. But Tony betted McGee that he wouldn't be able to figure it out himself. Of course he knew McGee would take the challenge simply to show he could. Tony vaguely remembered thinking that a part of him thought the Probie could use for the confidence boost... but more then that it would add extra work load on him.

Secondly he felt it should have been him with the knife sticking out of his chest. He should have been the one to being the woods finding McGee. But he hadn't been able to get there before Gibbs had already been there. And Vance ordered him and Ziva back due to the danger.

He knew, if he explained, Ziva would say it wasn't really his fault. Because it wasn't logically. The bastards who took McGee were sick. And besides... Tim had been thinking about doing the encryption anyway for the challenge. But guilt masked logic and truth.

The rest of the drive to the hospital was silence.

Tim was about halfway there. Moving forward seemed t be getting harder but he kept going. Still the eternal bliss inched towards him... tantalizing and inviting. All he had to do was stop and let it consume him. But he was set now. He wouldn't let it take him. Not now... not like this.

The second they touched down there were doctors swarming everywhere. They, obviously, were not interested in what Gibbs may or may not have to say. They had jobs to do. They'd dealt with people who were more concerned for others then themselves and learned to block out whatever was said and force what was needed. All they were interested in was what the ambulance crew had to report as the two injured agents were rushed to be dealt with separately.


	25. Gibbs12

_**Gibbs**_

* * *

Sitting there against the helicopter wall with the jacket spread open against his body, Jethro just sat there staring at the injured agent laying before him. He didn't think of the boy as an agent, he didn't think of the boy as a friend. No, he thought of him as his own child laying there, dying. The gun shot wounds. the injuries seen and unseen. He felt nothing right now, except for the gnawing feeling deep down inside. Guilt, why should he feel it? Because it was his duty to protect his team, to protect his family. Yet he had failed McGee in some way. There was nothing he could have done, but in his mind there was so very much he could have done. He should have pushed Vance harder, should have made Abby and the other computer techs work faster on finding a connection. He should have been there sooner to the location McGee was being held and he should have been the one laying there on that board dying. There was no changing his mind, ever, he would always, always feel the guilt when anyone close to him was hurt.

Severely hurt, but clearly not as bad as McGee was, Jethro refused any help right now despite the pleas from the other medics in the helicopter. His chest no longer bled, the cold from his body had slowed it down. His leg seeped but no longer spurted blood. His mouth had a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his lips every so often, yet he didn't taste it yet. His eye were glued to that helpless man laying there before him.

The sound of a flat line rang through Jethro's ears.

_Zap_

He never flinched as the body in front of him jolted with each volt passing through it. All he could hear was that flat line. Over and over again in his head. Even when that little blip started to beep on the screen he heard the flat line. Now off in his own state of mind, Jethro's eyes never blink. His faded gray blue hues just stare at the boy. He looked so helpless, so innocent right now. Just laying there fighting for his life. Jethro had seen so much death, so much pain over the years and this was only adding to it even more. To just sit there and watch unable to do anything at all was worse than ever.

_Standing on the roof tops with Tony and Kate, Jethro glances around. Something didn't feel right, something deep down in the pit of his gut screamed there was something wrong. _Bang_ Jethro pulls his gun out and scans around before feeling something warm against his face. Lowering his gun he looks over to Kate and as if in slow motion her eyes lose their life and she crumples to the ground. He looks down at her, a small bit of blood on his cheek. She was gone, taken from him._

Like a spinning wild wheel of fortune, Jethro's starts to see his pain flash before him.

_The warm heat, the sun the sand against his skin, warms him through the bone yet he felt a shiver run down his spine. Glancing over at Lt. Cameron, Jethro gives a nod of his head with a smirk._

_"So, Gunny, what are you going to get that pretty little girl of yours for your anniversary."_

_"I don't know Cameron, it's not like I'll be there with her."_

_"Nahh come on Gunny, don't think like that. You are there with her. You really are. Come on tell me, you have to have some idea."_

_"I was thinking flowers and ..."_

_"Flowers? Are you kidding me? Alicia told me Shannon and she were talking...now I'm not supposed to tell you this but she said Shannon told her she had her eye on one of those new fancy dish washers."_

_"A dishwasher?"_

_"Yeah, you know that thing you put dishes in and it washes all on it's own."_

_"Ha, ha very funny. You know I hate you right?"_

_"Oh yes I..."_

_"ENEMY FIRE TAKE COVER."_

_Before either man could hear the warning all hell broke loose. Gun fire came from everywhere. Jethro and Cameron fire their weapons back at the unknown. Just as Jethro was about to be hit by a sniper rifle, Cameron jumps in the way pulling him down. Warmth, Jethro could still feel the warmth against his hands. "Cameron..."_

_No answers from his friend just an odd gurgling sound. Crawling off to the side, Jethro pulls Cameron with him, holding the man in his arms, his hand against the stomach wound. "Stay with me, stay with me Cameron."_

_Cameron's eyes glaze over and he looks up at Jethro. So pale, so white. "I don't understand Gunny, I don't understand..."_

_The man says no more and dies in Jethro's arms. "Not for me...not for me.."_

The jolt of the helicopter touching down tears Jethro from his grim thoughts again. His eyes finally blink looking at the boy being unloaded from the plane first. So life less, so pale. He could practically feel the life draining from him. No comforting words could be said, no comforting thoughts could be thought. Jethro watches as the boy is wheeled off. A nurse and two other male orderlies climb up into the helicopter seeing the state Jethro was in.

"Sir...sir can you hear me?" The woman asks him gently, Jethro was now looking down at his hands covered in blood, McGee's blood, the men he had killed's blood and his own.

"Sir? ...I think he is in shock, Matt get a gurney.."

"No..." Finally he speaks in a gruff voice. "The name is Gibbs, not sir and I don't need a damn gurney." He growls at the woman slowly trying to get to his feet. His leg fails him, holding back stiffly against him not allowing any movement. He hisses in pain and glares at his leg. His body shook and shivered, freezing cold to the touch. Hypothermia setting in. No more pain came from his chest, he felt the pressure against his lungs, but no pain. Just cold, searing numbness.

"Please, Gibbs, just let us help you. Let us get you inside.." The woman please to him with a soft caring voice. For a second, a split second Jethro looks at the woman and he sees someone he hadn't seen in many, many years; Shannon. The fiery red hair, those soft eyes and beautiful smile. "Shannon?"

The woman still stares back at him, voice as soft as angels. "No, my name is Gloria, Gibbs, Gibbs...try and listen to me.."

Jethro tries again to get up but the cold, the injuries and the loss of blood takes hold of him and he passes out with the image of Shannon fresh in his mind, to haunt him, plague him in the quite freezing darkness.

As the hour passed, Jethro was stabilized and sent to the O.R. First, they had the task of getting his body temperature back up in order to operate. His limbs were turning a light blue color along with his lips. Covered in heating packs the nurses watch him non stop, unable to be left alone. The more his body temperature started to rise the more his wounds started to bleed again. His mind had him locked right now in a hallucinated state of confusion, pain and injury. The woman nurse was still with him, his brain convinced it was Shannon.

"Shannon.." He finally speaks emerging from his unconsciousness only to feel a sharp searing pain in his leg and chest before it spread through his entire body. His muscles painfully thawing out revealing every injury to even himself. He groans in pain before his eyes adjust and sees that it was not Shannon there with him. He focused now, looking around himself fighting with his body to get up. "Timothy..."

"Easy Gibbs, relax, just stay calm. Timothy is in good hands right now." Gloria gently pushes him back down careful of the knife still protruding from his chest. The doctor walks in with X-rays in hand glancing to Jethro before the nurse and then moving to look at the X-ray. Jethro's eyes follow the man, now not struggling for the pain was far to great, but he holds it back, keeps himself quite. He wanted to scream and holler, cry and just let go, but that Marine in him made it stay at bay.

He looked to the X-ray seeing his own scans. Seeing the blade deep into his chest cavity pressing against his heart and spine. He could see the other pictures of his ribs, cracked. His lung collapsed and the head scan and how much darkness surrounded the left side of his skull. He had seen enough with Ducky to know what this all meant. The test were all done while he was out, while they were stabilizing him and bandaging him up for pre op. Now, it was time for the doctors to see if they could repair all the damages.

"Gibbs, the doctor is going to have you put under now. Just breath in slowly, count back from ten."

His near lifeless eyes look up at the woman before darkness consumes him again.


	26. Gibbs13

_**Gibbs**_

* * *

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Once, but in my combat days doing meat ball surgery. By all means this man should be dead."

"Do you think it was the cold?"

"That mixed with determination, that's all I can say."

"Look at the scaring, this isn't his first time under."

"No, I looked at his file. This guy is Marine, served in many battles. Discharged because of an injury served during Desert Storm."

"Desert Storm, no wonder this guy made it. What about mobility, do you think he'll ever have it again?"

"Fully, I'm not sure, he may be able to regain some but depends really."

"On what doctor?"

"If we can get this knife out without severing the cord and killing him in the process. "Forceps...sponge...easy now lift it out slowly...suction. I need suction here..."

"Oh my God, look at that..."

"I see it, clamp, give me a vascular clamp."

"There we go, it's nearly out.."

"Careful...careful...there...just like that..."

"Doctor, his stats they are dropping."

"Quick, get me the atropine! Unclamp that, do it now!"

"But doctor if it was nicked…"

"I know. If you don't do it now this man will be brain dead!"

"Stats are going back to normal."

"There is some leaking here, give me suction, it need to see where.."

"There, the left ventricle.."

"Got it, sutures, give me some silk... there we go, I got it."

"Close him up, we are finished in this area."

"I'm going to put a bore hole in to drain pressure, you should inflate the lung now, we got the tear."

"What about a tube?"

"Yeah, I have a nurse getting the kit, it should be drained for a few days. He's going to have a lot of fluid in his lungs."

"Do you think he'll get pneumonia?"

"Damned if I know, but if we are lucky he won't. He won't make it if he does."

"His leg?"

"It looks clean, someone cauterized it with gun powder, might have save the leg."

"Yeah, if he can ever use them again..."


	27. Tim12

**_Tim_**

* * *

"Come on, we're losing precious time. Is he ready?"

"Yes Doctor Pierce. He's ready"

"Let me see those x-rays."

"My god, Doctor… have you ever seen anything like this before?"

Doctor Pierce paled a bit as he surveyed the charts and x-rays. This man should, by all natural laws, be dead. What was even more frightening…. He had been obviously tortured. By professionals by the looks of it. There was pretty much any pain inducing thing imaginable done to this man. There were burns, chemical, heat and electrical, stabs and cuts, whip marks, bruising, blunt force trauma, obvious broken bone in his hand, obviously upset over and over, muscle stress, and other things Pierce didn't even want to begin to list.

But the older injuries were all, obviously, not intended to be fatal when received. A lot of them, however, were made in such a way that a lengthy time without treatment to them could be in fact fatal. A lot of newer injuries WERE intended to cause harm. There were a lot more newer injuries focused on the head and chest as well as a lot intended internal injuries. The broken and cracked ribs were new.

But to add all that was the injuries he had apparently received the night before. More gunshot wounds then he already had… more strain. And worse of all the broken rib had been impacted in some way and punctured a lung, which in turn caused it to collapse.

In all… it would be lucky for this kid to survive. If he did… he could face a multitude of problems. His right arm was bad off… where the very old stab had been at his shoulder was in bad shape. The injury was infected and the muscles to both shoulders and arms stretched dangerously, which was bad for his left arm but worse for his right. It would be lucky if he could regain full strength of it ever again. Not to mention trauma to the head. They had found that he had received a bad knock on the head sometime that week, and it was made worse with the mild concussion he had seemed to received last night.

Pierce stopped examining there. A week of torture plus a night of nearly bleeding and freezing to death should have killed the kid. As it stood he barely was alive, there didn't seem a reason he was still breathing. But he was and so it was Pierce's job to make sure he kept breathing. He'd be damned if Death took the kid now.

"Never seen something this bad, Nurse… but it's our job to fix it."

They set to work.

* * *

*A day or so later*

Pierce finally finished closing the boy up. He'd only once ever undertaken such a long case. He needed a small break for a couple hours at some point in the middle so a different doctor had taken over for a while. But Pierce was determined to see this boy finished so took over the last few hours.

* * *

*A little time after that*

Tim was in recovery. The nurses were checking up on him nearly every minute and even Pierce checked his vitals more than most he would for more patients. The kid was patched up as well as they could… but there were too many problems to be sure. Agent McGee had an over 95% chance of dying within the first 25 hours out of surgery and still over 90% after that. As time went on his chances for survival would grow slowly… but it was still… not good.

Tim was there. So close… so close. The road was even harder to pull himself across but he was so close.

* * *

*About a day later*

"Come on he's slipping! Hurry up!"

Tim was exhausted. He had pulled himself for what seemed like years. His entire body was in pain again as the pain reached out to him. Tim stopped, hardly able to breath anymore because of his exhaustion. He could feel the bliss of death slowly starting to creep up, over his body. It was so nice....

But no... he couldn't let it. Tim started forward again, slowly pulling himself out of the grasp of death...as much as he wanted it.

"I got something! Ok he's stabilized"

"That was close... Keep an eye on him."

"Will do"

* * *

*About 3 or so days later*

The doctors had him in a manually induced coma for a while. He needed time to recover without risk of, somehow, waking up. After a couple days they lifted it. About a day later Tim woke up on his own, though it seemed to take too much work to open his eyes, plus he hurt even more. So, he let himself drift asleep once more without even stirring enough to show he had ever been unconscious.


	28. Gibbs14

**_Gibbs_**

* * *

Laying there in the uncomfortable hospital bed, Jethro could hear people talking around him. They were just mumbles and mutters of words which he couldn't understand. His mind wanted to just shut down and stop, forget it all and just let go. He had brought McGee out of the woods, but only in a literal sense. he feared the worse. He saw the shape the boy was in and only came to the conclusion he wouldn't make it through the operation. he failed him, he had let the boy slip through his fingers. It bothered him to no end, to think, once again someone else he cared for was gone.

As the days passed, Jethro's eyes slowly opened, his mind wanted to know what was going on with McGee, but his body wanted to rest, wanted to sleep and just give into the comfort and warmth of the blankets and the possibility for death. Jethro, he was a strong man a fighter, he wouldn't give in. Looking around with a haze in his eyes he went to speak but found his mouth blocked with something. Lifting one arm, shaky and very weakly, he places his hand to his mouth feeling the long tube sticking out of it. He swallows, but it was hindered by the tube pumping fresh air into his lungs. He lets his hand move over his head feeling pain, a headache like he had felt before. His fingers find what he had expected, a tube another one. How many were there? He couldn't help but wonder. By the time he had let his hand move from his head Gloria had saw him moving.

"Gibbs, nice to see you awake."

The red head speaks softly looking at his bandages, the monitors and bags that the tubes were draining into.

"Just relax and I'll get the doctor to see if we can remove the breathing tube."

With a light blink of his eyes, Jethro was letting her know he understood. He lets his eyes close again before trying to get more comfortable. He felt something odd, something different about his body. He was still cold, but that wasn't it. he felt like he were used as some kind of test subject, but that still want it. It was a weight, an odd force against him but still he couldn't place it.

walks into the room picking up the case file.

"Ahh, Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, nice to see you have finally decided to wake up."

Jethro just looks up at the man with annoyance in his eyes. he hates hospitals and hated being treated like a fool. Slowly the doctor puts his hands on the tube.

"This is going to be a bit uncomfortable. Cough while I pull it out."

Coughing but nearly gagging when the tube was removed, Jethro gasps lightly for the fresh air as his lings take it in on their own.

"Good, that's better. Much improvement. A few days ago you couldn't breath on your own at all. Now look at you."

"Yay for me."

Jethro whispers back sarcastically with a dry raspy voice. His throat was dry and felt like he had been sucking on razor blades.

The doctor give him a look over before stepping aside to whispers to Gloria, his nurse. Unknown to them the man had ears like a fox and eyes like a hawk, if at a far off range.

"Any signs of mobility?"

"Not even a twitch."

"It's a shame really..."

"Maybe in a few more days.."

"No, you know as well as I do an injury to the spine like that.."

That's when it hit him. That's when he figured out what that feeling was. He tries to move his legs,nothing. He tries to wiggle his toes nothing. The monitor hooked up to his heart starts to blip a bit loudly.

"No.."

He whispers lightly to himself. Addams and Gloria hear the monitor and walk over to him.

"Relax Agent Gibbs, everything is going to be alright."

"The hell it is."

"Sir, just calm down, don't over react."

"Over react!"

He growls in a hushed voice. It took a lot of effort to speak.

"Where the hell is my agent, how is he?"

"Agent? Oh you mean Timothy McGee, he's...in the ICU right now, where you are. Please, we need to keep you calm."

"I need to see him.."

Legs be damned he was more worried about McGee at the moment.

"Sir, please, calm down.."

Addams nods at Gloria to get a sedative. She nods back and walks off.

"Damn it stop calling me sir."

Jethro attempts to sit up and get out of bed. He groans in pain feeling the tube in his side and head. The way his chest was trying to head from being split open. Addams holds him down gently.

"Gloria hurry up with that. His heart can't be stressed..."

Determined to get out of that bed and see McGee, Jethro tries to struggle, but to no end. Gloria sticks him with the needles and in seconds he was out.

A few more days pass, and Jethro wasn't acting any better. The realization of being paralyzed, possibly forever had started to sink in. Wanting to see his injured family member, he was more determined than anything to get out of that bed and see him. But, he wasn't allowed because of his chest.

Another few days pass, and his behavior calms down. He declined any visitor not wanting anyone to see him in his state, not even Abby was allowed in to see him. As the day started to pass, Jethro had convinced the nurse and doctor to let him go see McGee. More or less he threatened. But they gave in. The tube was removed from his head, the pressure now down, but the one in his side remained. He now had two there, one draining fluids and the other draining the infection from his lungs. The cold he had suffered let the insets of pneumonia start to set in.

Set carefully into the wheel chair, his legs strapped lightly into the chair with a pair of light blue hospital pants on, Jethro was given a shirt but it was left open. His chest was still healing from the open heart work to remove the knife. He had a small pillow, given to all patients that had any heart operations, to hold onto because of the pain. His arm was around it holding it against his chest. He looked, very different. His face was healing slowly from the lacerations and bruises. He had stitches above his eye, over the bridge of his nose and on his cheek. His lips was split, his eye was black and his skin was very pale. The pillow covered most of the large strip of stitches down his chest, but the top could be seen with the dark purple coloration around it. His arm was bandaged in places, along with his shoulder and forehead. The hair was missing around the side giving him that Marine hair cut look again. His leg injuries were covered by the pants but it was clear by the way he was strapped in and the way his legs didn't move a t all that he could no longer use them right now.

After being wheeled into McGee's room, Gloria leaves him there to spend time alone. Jethro was close enough to the bed to touch the boy and see him very clearly. He swallows down what felt like a mouthful of cotton seeing him. He looked even more innocent than he had in the woods. It saddened him to see him like this. Looking down for a moment, Jethro looks back up at him again, but he stays silent. He just reaches his shaky pale hand with an IV in it out and touches the man's forehead lightly like a father checking in on his sleeping son.


	29. Tim13

**_Tim_**

* * *

Finally Tim made it. He was at the beginning of the path. Pain was digging its claws deep into Tim's body. Doing it's best to keep Tim from slipping back. McGee was so tired... so exhausted. Sometimes he'd loose grip and pain would do it's best to hold McGee and stop him from falling back into death. It was powered by the whispering echo of not-quite-words that happened ages ago. He'd then grip the ground again and pull himself forward once more.

Tim was used to it by now. He'd fought back death for now. It was still there... lingering... waiting for a slip up so it could engulf him once more. Tim knew that if he woke up it may make it easier to battle. But that would cause even more pain. He'd wait a while.

* * *

Tony sat with Ziva at his side. Both stared sadly at their co-worker... friend... little brother. McGee was in bad shape. Every visible bit of skin was bruised with varying degrees and shades of color. There were stitches on nearly every part of his body. Some of his hair had been shaved away when Doctor Pierce had to take care of the head trauma there. All in all Tim stilled looked like the living dead.

The ventilation tube in his lungs, providing them with oxygen so they didn't have to work on their own, had been removed. A nurse had said that McGee didn't seem to like the foreign object in him. Even in his unconscious, nearly dead state he registered it was there and didn't want it to be. So, before the kid could pull it out himself and cause more problems, they removed it for him, lucky his lungs could work well enough on their own. But even without that tube there were plenty other needles and tubes and monitors attached to him to make up for it. Much more then there ever should be for how long it had been since they got their friend out of those woods. Heck.. even since out of surgery.

"It is not your fault, Tony."

Tony glanced up at Ziva, before returning his gaze back to the broken, shattered body of McGee. There was so much wrong about this all. Tony knew that, even if Tim physically survived it, they may never have the sweet, innocent geek ever again. He was tortured... that changes people... destroys people. "If I hadn't dared him... he may not be here." His head dropped, shoulders sagging, "I just wanted to make his life harder." He looked back up at McGee, "It looks like I succeeded." The last bit was hardly even a whisper. His voice so chocked with guilt and grief it was painful to hear... such a contrast to his normal self.

Ziva looked at him, her expression stern but, to any who knew her, it held concern. "Do not talk like that, Tony. You know full well that he was planning on working on that data anyway. Even if you had not dared him."

Tony sighed, registering what she had said but not replying as he went on, "Remember what I said, Ziva? 'He better be dead or dying...' Well he was... and still is."

Ziva sighed and returned her gaze to McGee. There was no trying to make Tony understand. He blamed himself for McGee's fate. Even Gibbs' condition. It was eating him up... but she could do nothing about it. He'd have to figure it out for himself.

* * *

"Ducky! It's not fair! Gibbs won't even let me see him!... _Me!_"

"Calm down, Abigail. I'm sure he has goon reasons."

They pushed open the door to Tim's room. Any response Abby may have had died in her throat at the site of her friend, "Oh... Timmy." The words barely came out as a whisper.

"Timothy... what happened to you my dear boy?" Ducky placed a hand on Abby's shoulder, instincts telling him that Abby was on the brink of tears.

Somehow the scientist kept herself together and she found herself next to Tim's bed. He looked... worse then a zombie. Because he _did_ look like a zombie to her. Bruised... yet pale. Stitches... bandages... horrible. And yet he _was_ alive... and her friend. But yet... she'd seen dead people in field pictures in better shape then him. Of course though.. he was... tortured. The thought of that word made tears sting at her eyes. "Oh... Timmy." She could think of no better words to say.

Finally she bent down and gave the broken frame of a man a soft hug, afraid that if she wasn't careful he'd shatter even more, then sat down. The hug was to comfort herself... and it hardly worked. Finally she let the silent tears flow.

Ducky could do no more then sit as well, holding his young friend in attempts to comfort her. He fought back his nausea for her sake. He'd done autopsies of people in better shape then Timothy was right now.

* * *

He looked around. There were no more NCIS personnel at the hospital. All had gone back to the office. The case was still open. Thanks to evidence, (which was all due to Tim's escape) there was proof that it was a large ring of dangerous people who had done this. As such there were guards stationed for Tim and soon Gibbs as well.

But more importantly then the case itself... Tony, Ziva, Abby, Ducky and even Palmer all wanted to find who did this to their friend. Ziva swore that she would not simply see then to jail. Tony vowed he would help and Abby promised to clean up the evidence. Vance was not about to stop them either. He had a bit of a soft spot for the geek agent and seeing this happen was like seeing it done to a friend's child.

Unfortunately Tony and Ziva could not lead the investigation, they were to worried about McGee and refused outside help. So Vance passed the case to the next most competent field team and let Tony and Ziva help as them as much as they wanted.

Leon looked down at his agent. Or more exactly Gibbs' agent. The kid, from what Vance understood from reports and what he saw and heard himself, really fought hard. He hadn't told his captors information and did his best to run... even fight back. Not many people could have pulled it off... Gibbs had trained him well. McGee sure was a hell of a worker. The kid put his heart and soul into NCIS. It was his dream job. Of course it would stand to reason that, as such, something with NCIS may very well take his life... but it shouldn't. And especially not so young. McGee was only 32... still young.

Leon sighed, running his hand down his face as he surveyed McGee's battered and broken body. "Why did I make you go home Agent McGee? I should have let you stay all night. At least you'd have had security." Of course he logically knew that these men were obviously following and waiting for the moment to take him. It would have happened at some point. He refused to not say Agent before McGee's name. The kid loved being an agent and still _was_ an agent. And Vance swore fight the upper powers from removing the title. They already were trying to say McGee was no longer able to be an NCIS agent. And Vance was giving himself migraines fighting it.

He felt guilty and worried about Tim. The only thing Vance could do now was hope and pray that _both_ of his agents would survive and be well enough to return to their jobs at NCIS.

Without another word he exited the hospital, not letting anyone know he had even been there.

* * *

_It's time_ Tim knew he had to wake up, now, or death would creep up his little perch and take him.

It was hard, though, his eyes didn't want to open. The lids were too heavy.

He felt something... a... hand? Yes a hand. On his... forehead? Yes... that was right. At first he thought it would hurt.. hit him maybe. Like he had been woken up for a week some time ago. But no... it was gentle on his bruised head. And seemed somewhat familiar.

Slowly he opened his eyes. Dull green orbs searching for the keeper of the hand.

It took a moment for him to focus on what it was. But finally he could. It was a shock.. but reacting would have taken to much energy, so he didn't react. Just spoke in a rough, rasping voice barley above a whisper, "Boss?"


	30. Gibbs15

**_Gibbs_**

* * *

Watching the boy sleep for a little while, Jethro felt he wouldn't ever wake up. He himself didn't want any visitors. Not until he was in better shape. Last thing he needed was the people who viewed him as a strong Marine to see him laying in a hospital bed frail and weaker than he had been in over 15 years. It was better this way, at least to him it was.

Sitting there in the wheel chair, Jethro didn't have any shame of letting McGee see him like this because the boy had been through far too much for him to just ignore. He worried about him, was more than concerned about him. He had to check in on him make sure he was fighting. Seeing the eyes start to open, Jethro pulls his hand back lightly and carefully. His touch was so gentle unlike him. Everyone thought he was rough and incapable of human contact. incapable of being gentle with people, but the were wrong. He just chose not to. He chose not to let people in and kept them out for fear of what was happening right here, right now. Hearing his title, Jethro swallows down a large lump in his throat before letting a very small weak smirk tug at the corner of his lips. His eyes, soft blue faded hues were filled with pain, sadness, yet if you looked close enough you could see how proud he was of the boy before him.

"McGee." He replies back to him using the name he always called him to let him know his view on him as a man and as an agent never had changed. His voice was quiet, raspy and gruff. More of his emotions slipped past his tongue just speaking on name. But, the master of hiding everything, covered it up again letting that stone cold emotionless facade slip back over him. He had to remain strong for him, let McGee feed off his strength so to speak. Even if the man himself was as weak as he ever had been, he would keep strong just to help McGee past this.

"I hear you gave everyone quite..." He pauses for a moment to clear his throat, his lungs still draining fluids. A light gurgle sound came from his mouth between the small cough. His hand tightened on the pillow he was holding against his chest. The pressure and vibrations of the cough felt like someone was tearing his chest wide open. He takes in a wheeze like breath before continuing his words.

"You gave everyone quite a scare." He had heard the doctors talking about McGee and he made sure he was filled in on every thing he went through. All of it and even who was in to see him. He was his boss, his leader after all and he used his pull whenever it was needed.

Going silent again, Jethro scans over McGee's battered body, but his eyes seem to stay still as if not looking. He could see the bruises, the marks, the bandages and stitches. It pained him to see someone who was so full of life to be laying there as if all the life had been sucked right out of him. IN many ways the boy lost his innocence, the torture took something away and Jethro could sense it, feel it by just sitting next to him. He knew what it was like to be tortured, he knew what one could lose. He only hoped McGee wouldn't revert inside himself and lock everyone out much like he himself had done.

With the IV rack hanging above him in the chair, the bags off to his side attached to the chair, Jethro wheels the chair a bit closer. It took great effort to do so. Each movement he made felt like it was tugging on every muscle he had. Now situated closer and slightly comfortable, as comfortable as a man in his condition could be, Jethro shifts the pillow against his chest a bit placing his free hand with the IV onto his own lap. He was silent, a man of few words. Even now he wasn't sure of what to say. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many thoughts in his mind, but to say them now he felt it wouldn't help all that much. His silence , however, could be taken the wrong way. He had to say something, do something other than just sitting there like a lump of battered flesh.

"What do you mean we can't go in and see him? What happened, did something go wrong?"

Tony speaks worried to death to the doctors at the front desk.

"No, no sir he has a visitor right now who said he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Who has that kind of pull..."

Tony pauses looking at Ziva. Both say the name together at once.

"Gibbs."

* * *

No one was told about Jethro's condition, Ducky snuck a peek but was caught doing so. Vance knew but he respected the man enough not to tell anyone. Vance, oddly enough, was really the most worried out of them all right now. Not in a my family is hurt aspect, but he could very well lose two of the best agents the agency had.

"McGee's skills are irreplaceable Mr. Secretary. If not for him cracking those codes..."

"If not for him you wouldn't be sitting two agents short."

"I understand that Mr. Secretary, but it wasn't his fault those men went after him."

"Then who's was it?"

The SecNav was trying to find out who to blame for all of this mess. Always, someone had to take the fall. Vance was doing his best not to have anyone pinned with it. He felt this was inevitable, the kidnappers wanted what they wanted and got half of it.

"No one is to blame here Mr. Secretary. My agents did their jobs."

"Had they done their jobs better these people still wouldn't be out there and none of this would have happened. If I am not mistaken Agent McGee works under Agent Gibbs, correct?"

"Yes Sir, he does but Agent Gibbs..."

"It at fault for not watching his agents closer, for not making sure this code was cracked sooner."

"No, no Sir, as much as I would love to see Agent Gibbs put in his place, this isn't the way. No Agent Gibbs is not at fault for any of this. It was something that couldn't be stopped. Some times the bad guys have the upper hand."

Sec Nav was quite for a few moments before speaking again, changing the subject.

"So, you are now short two agents."

"Yes, two fine agents."

"When will Agent Gibbs be back."

"Not sure Sir, not sure."

"At least a thorn in your side is gone for now. Enjoy the silence while you can. Pick out two new agents for their replacements, put DiNozzo in charge of Gibbs' team for now until he comes back."

"Yes sir."

Hanging up the phone, Vance runs his hand down his face tooth pick sitting on the table beside him. He needed them both back to solve this case, but he wasn't about to go to the hospital and demand them to give over what they knew. He was trying to let them heal before grilling them.

Sneaking through the hall ways, Ziva rolls her eyes at Tony.

"If we are caught do you know what will happen?"

"Yeah we get booted out of here. So what."

"Why can't you just wait until he is ready to see us. Gibbs, is...well Gibbs!"

"Shhhh! Will you shut up before they hear us."

Tony peeks around the corner and sees the guard walk over to the window. He grabs Ziva and hauls her behind him slipping into the room.

Hearing the noise, Jethro was on high alert thinking someone had came back for McGee to finish him off. He was about to grab something to club whoever it was with until he saw the two familiar faces.


	31. Tim14

**_Tim_**

Gibbs's voice. So... not like him. So different. His eyes... not the hard, cold, emotionless blue orbs that usually glistened. These eyes were dull and filled with emotions that seemed like they were foreign. Tim wasn't sure to be worried about it, or take comfort that he wasn't the only one suffering.

As Tim regained a little more strength upon being awake his eyes widened, filling with fear and concern as Gibbs coughed and wheezed. "Boss!" Gibbs was hurt... and it was because of him. He shook his head slightly, regretting the motion as it sent a wave of pain, despite the pain killers, through his head, "No... I didn't give anyone a scare." He was still fully convinced that no one really cared about him. No one was worried. At most they wanted him back at work... that was why Gibbs was there. Why he had done so MUCH to get Tim back to being the mule at work was beyond the young agent... but logic has no place in a tortured mind.

As soon as Tony and Ziva crossed the threshold into the room Tony raised his hands, knowing his boss would be on high alert with the bastards who hurt Tim still out there. He wanted to make sure Gibbs didn't mistake him or Ziva as anyone bad, "I come in pe-" His words died in his throat as he saw what was in front of him. Tim looked just as battered and broken as the last time Tony had seen him, which was yesterday evening. But... his eyes were open. Tony inwardly rejoiced about that before noticing Gibbs.

Rather than standing he was sitting, which would mean he couldn't stand. He was battered pretty badly.

Ziva was also silent. She couldn't believe the state the two men were in. Gibbs was so battered... Ziva could only remember the time he had nearly been blown up. At that time she hid her emotions with mean remarks... which had hurt Abby. Now she couldn't hide behind rude remarks. They knew her better now. And then Tim laying there... open eyed. It was a wonder he was alive. Had it been even another day she was sure he'd have been literally tortured to death. His body would have shut itself down as she had seen sometimes done.

Tim's eyes had gone to the door as he heard someone enter."Tony? Ziva?" His voice still sounded like he was gargling a smoothie of razorblades, cheese graters and sharp rocks, but it was getting stronger now so could, just barely, carry to the door where they stood. He couldn't believe his eyes, really. They wouldn't have any pull to get him back to work so why were they here? Oh… Probably for Gibbs. Of course. He silently chastised himself for not realizing it immediately.

Tony mentally shook himself and stepped forward, straightening a little as he spoke to Gibbs. He had, knowingly, gone against what Gibbs wanted. He had known Gibbs didn't want visitors... didn't want to be disturbed. But he wasn't going to pass up the chance. "I wasn't going to just wait for you to allow visitors boss. And I wanted to check up on McGee." Ziva paused a moment before nodding and stepped forward as well. If one paid attention they would have noticed... Tony didn't apologize. Not only because of it being a sign of weakness.... but he wasn't sorry for it.

Tony paused a bit, then walked over to Tim's bed and sat down, closely followed by Ziva. "McGee. How are you doing?"

Tim's voice was just as weak as before, "Been better."

Tony looked to Gibbs, "And you Boss?"


	32. Gibbs16

**_Gibbs_**

* * *

Hearing the concern in McGee's voice, Jethro just puts up a hand until the feeling had passed and the coughing had stopped.

"I'm fine."

He replies as a little white lie. Anyone in the entire world could tell he was far from fine. His voice was just a light croak nothing like he normally sounded like. But much better than a few days ago when a whispers was hard enough to get out. The seconds words from McGee's mouth had Jethro wondering for a moment, but only a moment. He knew what was ahead of them and he knew what was going on in the boys mind right now. He had been beaten, abused and battered for a week and no one had came for him. Jethro tried to get there sooner, did everything in his power. He even broke protocol by going there alone risking his own life to save his. He would do it all again in a heart beat though. He himself was feeling like he failed him already with how long it did take for him to get thee. How much pain the boy suffered while he was being jerked around trying to find him. Seeing him like this was painful he could barely look at him but he continued to do so. Torture for his own mind, torture for not being able to do more and prevent it all. However he didn't see where this was the right time to go into a debate on why he had scared a lot of people and who cared about him. That would come later, right now the boy had to get through this uphill battle and that was going to be challenging enough as is.

Jethro adverts his gaze from either Ziva and Tony. He did NOT want them there right now. He did not want them to see him like this. Yes, in time they would learn of his demise, his being confined to a wheel chair for possibly the rest of his life. He knew that, but he didn't want them seeing him so pale, so broken down right now. It was taking away what little bit of dignity he had left. Him not looking at them alone showed just how unimpressed he was right now and displeased by them both. He could feel the gaze of both people on him, assessing his injuries. He only hoped they couldn't really see all of them and he only hoped they didn't realized right now why he was in the chair. The pillow he was holding soon found it's place beside him in the chair and shirt that was half open was buttoned all the way. As if hiding himself from them both the best way he possibly could. It was odd, he was fine with McGee seeing it but did not want Ziva or Tony to see anything what so ever. His chest was throbbing like hell now that the support of the pillow was away from it allowing it to rise and fall on it's own. He now knew why they stressed to him to use the pillow when sitting up. Still, he refused to put it back and show more signs of weakness.

Ziva was having a hard time even looking at both men, Gibbs the hardest right now she was his father figure. Tony, it was obvious his focus was on the younger agent laying in the bed. She glances At Jethro, he large brown hues so soft and full of concern now. That strange look she gave everyone was gone for that brief moment looking at her 'father' and him sitting in that wheel chair. She was about to speak but was torn from her thoughts when she heard Tony ask how he was. She knew that wasn't a good idea. She gives a quick glare to Tony then glances back at Jethro.

Keeping his head turned facing McGee, Jethro just mumbles in a stronger voice, a voice he was forcing out of himself for the two of them.

"I'm fine."

Yeah right, like hell he was. He was lying straight through his teeth. He didn't want any attention on himself. They could sit with McGee and talk with him all they wanted to but he wanted to be left alone until he was well enough to leave the hospital.

Sensing this Ziva glanced back at the door then Jethro.

"Do you need me to call the nurse?"

She asks quietly knowing he wanted out of there.

Big mistake on Jethro's behalf he starts wheeling himself to the door, it was more painful than he had imagined. He did it anyway and glanced back at McGee. Just the look he had given the boy was more powerful than words. It was the look a father would give a child when they were hurt and needing comfort. The other two didn't get to see it because that expression changed quickly and he was out the door. He didn't get far, just outside it before the nurse came over to scold him. Before she could say anything she stopped herself seeing the painful look in his eyes.

"Lets get you back to your room Gibbs." Everyone knew by now not to call him Jethro, Sir or Mr. Gibbs. Once back in his room he is helped back into his bed where he lays there trying to fight off the pain. The nurse slips more morphine into the drip and soon he nods off to a painful troubled sleep.


	33. Tim15

**_Tim_**

Tim saw the look, but didn't understand it. Why would his boss give him such a strong look of concern? It was like the look he himself had been given by his mom and dad so long ago... before they were killed. But Gibbs was just his boss... nothing more... right?

Tony didn't say anything as he watched Gibbs go. He had seen and heard enough. He wasn't a kid... he wasn't a probie. He had seen his share of injuries. Gibbs was in bad shape. That pillow he was refusing to use was for chest injuries. The voice he had spoken with to them was obviously forced and had pain backing it. His look harsh but... not right. And one of the biggest tell-tales was still that wheel chair. Gibbs would never be in a wheel chair unless he literally could not stand. No matter what. He made a mental note to do more snooping after he was done with Tim.

But for now they were sitting with the now conscious Tim. Tony looked at his Probie sadly. No... McGee may not be _a_ probie anymore. But, even if he wasn't classified as a probie, he was still _his_ probie. Tony's very own probie. Tony had basically, even if the younger man hadn't realized, taken him under his wing. Gibbs of course trained them all but, like an older brother, Tony had trained Tim other things that the parents didn't want to have known.

_Older brother? When did I start referring to McGee as a brother?_ He sighed, sadly, Ziva all but forgotten next to him, _Well... we sure get on each other's nerves like brothers. _He couldn't help the strained chuckle escape his lips at the memory of a particularly fun series of pranks and jokes. Tim even had enjoyed it and, though Tony never had admitted it out loud, Tim's pranks were quite good.

His smile faded. He could not pretend like everything was all right. He always hid behind jokes and the wish that there was nothing wrong. Ziva often reprimanded him for it. He couldn't pretend everything was ok... it wasn't, "You really scared us back there McGee... we thought we lost you."

Again with the fear. Why did Gibbs and now Tony both try to claim he had scared someone? "Stop lying Tony... " He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut. Although his voice was a bit stronger now it didn't stop the extra pain caused by talking.

Tony and Ziva both felt taken aback. Ziva hid it better then Tony did, however. "You do no believe we were worried about you, McGee?"

Tim's dull eyes glanced over to her; she had to restrain herself from physically shrinking back. The look in his eyes... they were so.... dead. There was no other word to describe it. He had lost something. He was no longer the McGee they knew and loved. He was someone else.... the real McGee was buried. Only time would tell if he was still alive.

"No Ziva... why would you care? I'm just the geek... easily replaceable..."

Ziva could not hide her shock from his remark... what was worse… was his tone suggested he believed it.

Tony was the first to find his voice. He too had noticed the deadness in McGee's eyes and voice. But... did McGee really believe that? "McGee!" He couldn't think of words to combat what Tim just said... Ziva couldn't either.

All this talk had really worn him out. Tim allowed his eyes to slide shut. He never thought Ziva really liked him. They were too different. He was raised as a gentle man and she was raised as a killer. He liked her and they always got along. He was even the first to open up to her when she first arrived... but she never liked him much.

But... Tony on the other hand. He hated Tim. Tim was convinced of it. So many jibe remarks... emotional stabs... cruel pranks and destroying rumors. Tony lived to hurt Tim.

Tim felt himself drifting back asleep. As always he wasn't sure if he'd open his eyes again or not. So decided it needed to be said... Tony's hostility towards him was Tim's own fault, after all, "Sorry you hate me so much Tony." Finally, as if that was the only thought had had kept him awake, he fell into the darkness of sleep. Death's sister, as he once read it described.

Tony sat there in silence, completely numbed by what Tim's last words were. He didn't really feel as Ziva placed a hand on his shoulder. "H-He thinks I hate him."

"No Tony, He does not. He was... just not thinking is all."

Tony shook his head, the weight of knowing what Tim thought now crushed down upon him. He always knew he annoyed the younger agent... but never knew Tim thought Tony did it out of hate. Corny as it may sound Tony always felt he did it out of a strange brotherly love. You could never find siblings who didn't pull pranks on one another and insult each other... but yet Tim didn't see it as that. Tony put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, covering his face as if ashamed.

Tony knew full well that part of Tim's current thoughts were due to the torture. They had said things and done things to mold Tim's mind to make it easier to get information. Break down his emotional connections to people and he'd have less of a reason to not tell them what they wanted.

But... Tony couldn't help wonder... how much did they have to work to make Tim think Tony hated him? And even with that.... would Tim ever again see that Tony did not feel like that about him?

Ziva sat in silence, her hand on her friend's shoulder... yes... her friend's shoulder. She long ago decided that Tony... McGee... Abby... Ducky and even Palmer were all friends. Just recently she decided to act upon that. So she sat, not judging, just a friend. Concerned about one man and in sympathy for the other.

*Some time later*

Finally Tony and Ziva snuck out of the room with McGee. Now towards Gibbs' room. If he was awake they intended to speak to him, whether he liked it or not, and if he was asleep to get a look a his charts to see just what was wrong.

"Tony, this is a very bad idea!"

"Shh!" He knew that Ziva secretly wanted to know as much as he did what was up with their boss. And it was Gibbs' fault Tony was so persistent about it. It was how he'd been train.

Despite the security it wasn't too hard to get to the right room. Even quieter then before they slipped inside.


	34. Gibbs17

**_Gibbs_**

Jethro had remained asleep for quite some time. The extra dosage of morphine put him into a deeper sleep than he would have ever wanted. The man never liked to sleep very much due to the reoccurring nightmares he suffered each and every single time he allowed himself to drift into a deep sleep. At least under normal circumstances Jethro would be able to wake himself up after a battle with the dream. With these drugs being pumped in him and his weakened state he wouldn't be able to freely wake from such a dream.

_Standing on a roof top, Jethro looks around feeling the cool harsher air sting against his face. Something didn't feel right, something felt very off.  
"So Boss what do you think?"  
He hears a voice behind him and turns around. Tony stood there with that usual look on his face of wondering what his fearless leader was thinking of with a pair of dark shades on to block out the strong rays of the sun.  
"Not sure yet DiNozzo..."  
Jethro replies looking back down at the computer modual sitting on a stand. Shifting of feet then a soft kinder voice fills his ears.  
"Gibbs, you know he's just pestering you for answers right? This is probably another wild goose chase."  
Glancing up, Jethro comes face to face with Kate Todd. Her soft smile always seemed to warm him right through. He smirks back at her.  
"Maybe it's you who is putting us on the chase."  
He teases back at her. She laughs softly at him.  
"No, everything lead to right here, right now."  
The conversation continued with Tony and his crude jokes and words about movies while Kate did her best to defend herself and correct the man when was wrong while Jethro couldn't help but feel something wasn't right. Before anyone could react there was the sound of a gunshot then Jethro felt that light spatter against his face. Kate just seemed to stand there. Everything just froze right then and there. Her eyes glaze over with a light white haze before glaring right at Jethro. Such a painful blaming stare.  
"Why Gibbs...why me?"  
She asks him as the blood starts to seep down her forehead.  
"I...I don't know..."  
He didn't have the answers for her, there was nothing he could say. She takes a step closer to him. Tony was frozen in time around him. All else just stopped. All that existed was Jethro and Kate. The area fades to a bright blinding white blank area. He could hear a faint drip sound. The sound he soon realized was blood falling slowly from the back of Kate's head. Then he felt something warm against his fingers. Looking down he saw the crimson red staining over his hands.  
"The blood, it's all on your hands now."  
Kate seems to hiss her words at Jethro before turning away from him. He could see the hole in the back of her head, the gruesome details all so vivid.  
"Wait.."  
He please to her and she stops walking.  
"I tried, I tired to stop it. You weren't supposed to die."  
"Not me you fool, him!"  
She points a long finger at a crumpled battered broken body off against a tree. The whiteness of the ground gave way to forest ground cover. The wind was so cold against his skin and face. It stung to breath, felt like he was being forced to inhale mall pins and glass shards. He and Kate walk closer to the body, still Jethro couldn't make it out. Kate remained silent as she seemed to hover over the leaves, moss and dead grass. Each step felt like he was walking through thick sticky layers of mud holding him back. His legs just dragged behind him like useless stumps. Kate gives him a good swift kick to the back of both knees and he falls down on them kneeling before the crumpled body.  
"Go ahead, take a look at your latest work. It's all you are good for. It's all you are capable of."  
Her voice was so vial, so evil sounding like nothing he had ever heard from her before. Placing a cold shaky hand on the body, Jethro turns it over and his shocked at what he saw. McGee...lifeless. His eyes wide open staring at him so accusingly. Brusied and batters, lifeless, so still so gone.  
"No..."  
He whispers hearing laughter start to fill the woods. It echoed from everywhere. All the people of his past who had died for him, around him, because of him and at his hands; all of which he remembered, were laughing at him.  
"Stop it."  
He growls at the voices staring at the dead young innocent man. The only dead he didn't see were his mother, wife and child. The laughter continues.  
"Stop it!"  
He growls a bit louded putting his hands on his head covering his ears. The sounds of laughter was inside his head. The dead man before him seems to start to come to life. His lips cure into a nasty sneer, accusing him still. Then he begins to laugh at him. Laugh along with the rest of them getting up from the ground and taking his place against the dead. Jethro tries to mvoe but he couldn't, he couldn't get up his legs failed him. They all point and continue to laugh before silence fills the room. McGee's voice was all that could be heard.  
"I blame you."_Struggling in his sleep the monitors now hooked up to him again started to beep loudly. Sweat had formed over his brow. His face was twisted in fear, confusion and most of all pain and guilt. His head moves from side to side while light grunts and inaudible sounds come from him. He tries to tear himself from the dream, pulling himself way from it, away from the accusing stairs and the guilt that was consuming him. It was eating him alive right now. Tingling right through his body. Kate, Jenny, everyone he had caused pain to felt was his fault they were no longer amongst the living were there making the guilt more unbearable to take in. The words from McGee just resonated through his ears over and over again. Until he seemed to calm again feeling something hot, very hot flow through his veins. He gorans in pain and then everything just stops. He goes silent again, doesn't move. All that could be heard was the light beeps of the monitors now calm. His chest rose and fell lightly now with his calmer breathing.

The door shuts lightly again and Gloria walks out shaking her head lightly. She couldn't begin to imagine what was going through the man's mind right now. All she knew was he needed his rest. Needed to sleep. She had gave him a light calming sedative to help him rest peacefully. But still the voice and laughter remained in his head.

*little while later*  
Jethro had woken and was just laying there with his eyes closed trying to fight off the thoughts of his dream, the feeling of guilt and the pain he felt. He wished there was more he could have done for McGee but there was no changing what had happened. He lays there very still, very quite as if still asleep. His forehead still had those damp beads of sweat on it, his hair was messy and his breathing sounded a bit more wheezy with the breathing apparatuses they had placed against his nose to help him breath better. He looked far from that bog old tough silver haired fox he was referred to many, many times.

"Tony!" Ziva hisses in a hushed whisper as he grabs the clip board at the foot of Jethro's bed. Giving it a glance over, Tony frowns even more at what he saw. Onsets of pneumonia, paralysis and 40 % chance of full recovery was what stood out the most right now on that clip board. Ziva had skimmed it over with Tony and her eyes became more worried of the man she had just, not less than a month ago, confessed to thinking of as her father. She was frozen unable to move right now seeing those words.

Feeling someone in the room with him before even attempting to open his eyes, Jethro started to frown. "You know both of you could be put in the stockade for this."  
He speaks in that forced gruff boss like tone of his slowly opening his eyes. The hues were not that of their royal ocean icy blue hues, no they were faded gray.


	35. Tim16

**_Tim_**

Tony jumped a little upon hearing the voice. It had seemed like Gibbs was completely unconscious when they had walked in but apparently not. He put on a forced smile and light tone, "Oh come on boss. You wouldn't do that to us." He paused a few moments, "Ok... maybe you would."

He didn't care what looks he got as he pulled up a chair beside his Boss's bed. He noted that Ziva did as well. "Boss... what happened?"

Ziva nodded beside him. Gibbs was so much like a father. He had been well before she'd have ever admitted it, and here he was. So hurt in the hospital, trying to act tough.

For some reason that made her anger flare for a moment, "Do not act like nothing is the matter, Gibbs." She knew she would probably get him angry but she didn't care. She was so worried about him and she had no other way of expressing it, "You are hurt. Your chart says as much. Your body shows it to. Do not pretend like you are fine just because you are in front of us. We risked our lives to get into that forest well before Vance had allowed it. Both Tony and I nearly got killed by one of the enemies and one of your traps. But we did not turn back. We have the right for you to stop putting on an act. It is doing nothing but hurting yourself more."

Ziva had to take a few breaths. She had hardly taken a breath in that rant which had sped up as she spoke. Finally she bit her lip and looked away. Partially to hide her face, which was having a hard time of hiding emotions, and part of it was because she expected to get in a lot of trouble and didn't want to look into those dull gray eyes for it.

Tony faltered for a moment after Ziva's rant. But he understood why she had done it. He turned to Gibbs again; hoping to pull any backlash away from Ziva and onto him should there be any, "Boss. Ziva's right. But I should be the one laying in that bed there. Not you."

This caused Ziva to look over to him. She had thought he no longer blamed himself for Gibbs' condition... but apparently he did." Hell it's my fault McGee's hurt at all." He sighed, looking down into his hands. Suddenly McGee's last conscious words hit him again. He couldn't help the next few words. Gibbs was hurt... but he was still Gibbs. "Boss... do you hate me?"

Ziva immediately knew where this was going. Her previous rant forgotten, "Tony. That is enough. McGee does not hate you!"

Tony looked up at Gibbs, knowing he'd want an explanation, "Before... before McGee fell asleep a little while ago... he... he said 'I'm sorry you hate me so much Tony.' He thinks I hate him."

Tony fell silent for a few moments before they heard something in the hall. It sounded like a nurse and it sounded like she had said she was going to check on Gibbs.

Tony and Ziva's eyes widened, sadness forgotten for a while. They could get in trouble if they were caught in here. They both stood up to find a place to hide, causing them to run into each other before Tony pushed Ziva towards the bathroom, shutting the door.

A nurse came in (not his main one... just one to check on Gibbs' vitals. She thought she saw the bathroom door shut as she opened the door. She gave Gibbs a glance before checking in the bathroom. She opened the door and looked around but didn't see anyone. So shrugged and finished her job before exiting again.

Both Ziva and Tony stood tip toe right behind the door on a ledge for the shower, so unless the nurse closed the door with herself in the room they were well hidden from view.

As the door shut they waited for the sound of the other door to shut before exiting their hiding spots, Ziva gracefully stepped down to the floor and Tony slipped and landed in a crumpled lump on the floor.

Ziva rolled her eyes as they went back out to see Gibbs.


	36. Gibbs18

**_Gibbs_**

"Damn right I would." Jethro grumbles at the two of them. This time his words didn't come out as rough and tough. He was having a hell of a time keeping the tough act up.

Seeing Ziva then Tony pulling chairs closer he knew these two were not just going to get up and leave, no matter what he said. Something he had taught them when they wanted something bad enough, never give up, never give in no matter what anyone told them. Here it was slapping him across the face.

What happened? We got the shit kicked out of us that's what happened. Jethro growls to himself in his mind. He shakes his head lightly. He didn't feel like going into anything.

"Rescue mission gone wrong." His only answer for right now. When he wrote out his report then people would know. Face to face, Jethro wouldn't speak of it. Only to one man who needed to speak of it. But not right now, McGee needed to heal physically first before the mental healing would start.

Jethro's eyes move from Tony over to Ziva in a flash. His faded gray hues narrow at her as she speaks so defiantly to him, but he looked deeper listened closer and he could hear, see and feel her concern and worry for him. He couldn't get overly angry with her for just caring, but he hated when people put their attention on him. He hated when people wasted their time worrying about someone who didn't need nor deserve it. At least that was how he always would feel.

"Well since you read my chart, then you know what's wrong." He nearly snaps at her, but his voice was too shaky for it to come out as a snap. More like some old man trying to speak over a whisper.

"I'm not the one you should be worried over, either of you. I did my job, you did your jobs there is nothing else to discus." Yes it was so much more than just a job, so much more then just going out there to get the bad guys and he knew that they knew this.

Hearing Tony's words about he should be laying there and not himself, Jethro got a little upset, in an angry way. He forces himself to sit up grabbing that damn pillow and pressing it against his chest. It took a lot of effort to do so too. His face turned a little redder covering up that paleness he had. The strain wasn't able to be hid but he managed it. His weak hand reaches out and grabs Tony by the shirt collar pulling him closer. Had he been able to move on his own this was where he would be standing intimidating close to him glaring into his eyes.

"You listen to me and you listen good. No one, no one at all deserves to be laying in any bed right now under any of these conditions. I am here because I made a decision and I wouldn't change it."

As Tony goes on, Jethro's hand only manages to tighten on the man's shirt. Gripping as tightly as he possibly could.

"Did you do it to him? No. Were you the one who stalked him? No. Are you the one specialized in computer technology, no. Don't you sit there and play the pity party game Anthony. You want to blame someone. You blame the bastards that did this to him. You want to beat someone up for it you put that revenge into the bastards who will pay for what they did to that boy."

He would not just lay there and Have Tony hating himself for any of this what so ever. No one needed it. He knew that guilt would be there but he damn well want to not show it in front of him.

Hearing him ask the question he finally lets go of the man's shit leaning back against the bed. In part because he didn't feel the need to be in his face and because it took too much effort to even try and sit like that.

"Timothy isn't himself right now. You know this, Ziva you could explain it better to him than I could." He speaks quieter to Ziva at the moment before turning his gaze back to Tony.

"He doesn't need anyone feeling sorry for him right now. He needs you all to be supportive and ack as you always would with him. Don't baby the hell out of him. Don't tip tioe around him. He's going to say things that no one will understand, but you have to understand what he went through, what they did to him, it's not going to just pass over night. That innocent fun loving boy you all knew, he's not there anymore."

Cold hard truth, but Jethro was known for saying it how it was without sugar coating it.

"In time he might find himself again, but a part of him will forever be left out there in those woods."

Watching the two scurry off to hide away from the nurse, Jethro shakes his head and relaxes back against the bed again. He just closes his eyes so he wouldn't have to answer anymore stupid questions from the people who kept wanting to know how he was feelings, could he feel anything in his legs, did he need anything. it was driving him up the wall. Waiting for the two to come back he hears the thud.

"DiNozzo.." He whispers knowing who fell. He opens his eyes again, as alert as he possibly could be right now. "Well, it there anything else you two have to say?"

He asks them wondering how long it was going to take for one of them to make a remark about him not being able to walk. Wondering who would be the fool to ask first.


	37. Tim17

**_Tim_**

Tony wasn't expecting Gibbs to grab him like that. He really wasn't expecting it to lead to any discussion at all. He should have known it would but he didn't really mean to say it out loud. He knew better. But it was a slip and now he was paying for it.

Tony heard Gibbs' words. About how no one deserved to be in the bed and that Gibbs had made his decision. He didn't say it out loud, he knew better then to argue, but he still thought differently. Yea… well I'm the one who prompted McGee into doing that code. I should have made the decision to go into the woods to find him… not you. He thought these things, but he didn't say it, nor did it show in his eyes. He would have to deal with it on his own. No… I didn't physically hurt him… but my actions put him where he was and left him there for a week. I didn't work hard enough to find any leads to him. Again... he thought it but said nothing. He hid most of his emotions from his eyes but he was sure at least a little of his guilt and disbelief seeped through. It couldn't be helped.

Tony kept his eyes down. He knew Tim wasn't himself. He knew everything that Gibbs was saying. And he knew, painfully, that Tim would never be the same. He didn't need to be told this. But what Gibbs, nor Ziva, seemed to understand was what he was really worried about. How much of Tim's statement came JUST from a tortured mind and how much was carried over from reality? And would Tim always think Tony hated him? That was just as bad in his right mind or not.

After Tony fell he jumped back up, brushing his jacket and pants off like he had meant to fall the whole time. He ignored the sting of landing in a painful position because he didn't think it warranted any attention… not with Gibbs and McGee in their current conditions.

Ziva simply rolled her eyes with a shake of the head before leading them back into the room.

Tony glanced at Ziva at Gibbs' question. They were both thinking the same thing. About his paralysis. But Tony knew better. He was not about to ask. He was in enough hot water with his boss already with his guilt and everything.

Ziva, however, didn't care. She couldn't get fired and Gibbs was currently not working. She and Tony both stood a distance away from him though, "Boss…" She paused, finding words, then continued, "When… does your physical therapy start? For the paralysis?" She couldn't think of a better way to term it. She couldn't just say Boss your paralyzed how do you feel about that?


	38. Gibbs19

**_Gibbs_**

Jethro knew Tony just wasn't getting it. He had to practically slap the man day in and day out to get him to even understand simple things. If the tables were turned and Tony had been the one to go out into those woods, great agent or not, ex cop or not, Tony and Tim might very well have been killed. Not that Jethro was thinking he were better than him. No he was more trained in these kinds of situations. He could shut out everything else and just do what was needed, survive and keep others alive. Tony was a good, good strong man. But also he had a large heart and sometimes he knew the man couldn't easily shut his heart off and just do what was needed. If Tony saw McGee the way he had, if he had witness them shooting him Tony would have been blinded by anger and rage and gotten himself injured worse and possibly killed. Ziva, Jethro pondered over the outcome of that one. She would have gotten Tim out of the woods but her revenge side would have lead her back into an ambush and death.

There were so many things that Jethro understood about what McGee was going through and so many things he knew Tony would never quite understand. He didn't push him, didn't say anymore about it. That subject was over, that subject was changed.

Hearing the question come from Ziva's mouth, Jethro felt like either kicking their asses out by calling for the guard, slap her in the face for asking or cover his face with a pillow and smother himself.

When did the therapy start? Ha! What a larger slap to the face. No kick to the balls in this case. The answer to that, to his mind right now, was never.

"There won't be any."

He shifts a bit in the bed to attempt to get ore comfortable. He wasn't giving up, he wasn't even thinking about himself what so ever. How could he even think of something like that when he couldn't even feel his legs let alone and slight movements that may occur. His words probably would have sounded like a defeat, but there was no other answer he could have given her. "I think it's time you two left now."


	39. Tim18

**_Tim_**

"There won't be any?" Ziva looked at Gibbs questioningly, then realization dawned on her. He was giving up. Her face hardened a bit, expressions leaving them. She looked much more similar to the Ziva David from years ago... the mossad officer. She turned to Tony, "He is right Tony...we should leave. He had given up on himself and therefore I have nothing more to say to him." With that she turned on her heel and left the room, not caring if anyone saw her.

Tony glanced at her, then Gibbs, and had a feeling she was right. He didn't say anything as he left.

Meanwhile

Tim was battling demons again... memories of years past... and current pains all mingling into one. Parents, Kate, Jenny they told him to not let the bliss of death take him. But it was still a nice idea. It wasn't creeping to him as much as before... but it was calling to him. Coaxing him to let go.

Meanwhile

Ducky had his own plans to see Gibbs. He strode into the room with dignity, looking like he was meant to go in the room, therefore the nurses didn't stop him. He eyed Gibbs. Tony had told him about their conversation. And wanted Ducky to psycho analyze his boss... just in case. Ducky nodded, looking down at the man he thought of as a brother. But with slight disappointment. "Ohhh Jethro. What have you gotten yourself into now?" He sat in the same chair Tony had occupied, warm blue hues boring into Gibbs.


	40. Gibbs20

**_Gibbs_**

Jethro could have said anything but then again it seemed Ziva herself had her mind made up about Jethro. He just shakes his head and lets them both go saying nothing more. He rests back against the pillow the other against his chest, but he doesn't sleep he just lays there thinking of what was going to take place in the near future. Wondering how McGee was making out and wondering just what damage was done to the poor boys mind.

Hearing the door open, Jethro knew who was coming in there before Ducky even spoke.

"Ducky, now is not a god time."

He replies back to him knowing a lecture was going to follow. Ziva and or Tony had to of already told him about what he had said or else the man wouldn't have so boldly walked into his room like that. He lets out a long slow breath staring right back into the older man's eyes. His were less faded slight color returning but not all that much. The confidence was drained from them right now. Defeat shone right through them. Without the movement of his legs he felt he was nothing. He couldn't do anything. Everything he had once done he could never do again. He couldn't get in his basement unless he planned on building his boat in the living room. He couldn't work fully as an NCIS agent. He could work behind a desk but he could never be a full field agent. Go the the scenes collect evidence but he couldn't kick ass. He could interrogate but who would take a grump ass in a wheel chair seriously, not many. Just a few things going through his mind.


	41. Tim19

**_Tim_**

Ducky examined Gibbs for a few moments, taking in everything and making notes in his mind. It was strange seeing Gibbs so defeated. Sure Ducky had seen the other man look down before. But never this badly. He cleared his throat, ignoring Jethro's statement that it was not a good time. "So Jethro. I can assume you are not doing very well, but as it is customary good manners to ask, I'm afraid i can't help the question. How are you Jethro?"

He sat back, making himself comfortable and giving the impression that he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, "So... your agents tell me you do not believe that therapy is in order." He glanced at Jethro's legs, underneath the blanket, "But... I'm pretty sure it is. At least if you ever hope to walk again." He sat forward, not really giving Gibbs a chance to respond if he wanted to, "But something gives me the impression you do not believe it worth the trouble. Now... correct me if I'm wrong but someone wise once told me that it's a sign of weakness to quit. Are you telling me that the man who said that isn't as wise as he once thought?"


	42. Gibbs21

**_Gibbs_**

Not even Ducky was safe from the stare that would bore whole through a person. And right now it called for it. He looks away after a few minutes. He just didn't feel like listening to what the man had to say. Truthful or not. It just bugged him. He wanted to heal on his own. Not put up with people trying to make it seem like he had given up entirely. He hadn't he was defeated yes, but who wouldn't be right now? His frame of mind wasn't a pretty picture.

"Save it Ducky. Save it for someone who needs the pep talk."  
He begins with a grumpier voice, but still strained to even speak those words.  
"Like maybe a young man down the hall."  
Jethro didn't want this about him. he didn't need them focusing on him. To him McGee needed this more than he did.

Looking back at Ducky again Jethro lets out a slow breath and runs a shaky hand through his silver hair.  
"Look, I didn't say I was giving up. Whatever impression Ziva and DiNozzo got wasn't the right one. She asked about physical therapy, I answered. Look at the charts Duck and you'll understand."  
He pauses again shifting the pillow on his chest. He was annoyed with it so he moves it out of the way entirely.  
"40% chance of full recovery. 10% chance of ever walking again. Not very high Ducky."

Staying silent again for a few minutes Jethro just looks to the side away from Ducky.  
"You should go see Timothy, he needs all the strength and support he can get right now."


	43. Tim20

**_Tim_**

Ducky sat, analyzing Gibbs for a moment before standing and looking over Jethro's chart, nodding a little to himself before replacing it back on it's hook and sitting back down.

Finally he spoke, his voice certain and enforcing, "No excuse." He folded his hands around a knee, getting comfortable and giving the impression he was about to have a long (probably one sided) talk. "So, you have a small chance of recovery. A percentage based on average people with average will powers." He gave Gibbs a stern, yet questioning like look, "Are you telling me you're average Jethro?" He chuckled lightly, "Since when did you, of all people, not take even the slightest chance presented to you and use it to your full advantage?"

The chuckle faded, not having been a sincere one in the first place. He shook his head a little, "Well, I agree I will have to spend some time with dear Timothy. It seems that he had requested long ago that he never have to see a psychiatrist unless he gives signed consent. He doesn't seem to like them much, so I will have to act as one for a while until we get him to consent to a mind doctor. But, at the moment, I'm afraid talking to him would be a bit of wasted breath for me, you see, as the boy is not awake currently. Though... by the looks of things talking to you may be just as much of a waste of my breath as talking to Timothy would be. But at least it could accomplish me feeling like I had done something, however untrue that may be, and I can assure Anthony and dear Ziva that I've at least tried. So do humor me and at least pretend to listen."

Ducky let out a small sigh as he looked over his friend... his unofficial brother for years now. He hadn't been this disappointed in Gibbs for years. And in fact he was pretty sure he was even more disappointed now than he had been when Jethro ran away. "Dear Jethro... here you are in your unique form of 'oh woe is me' while Timothy is down the hall with an even lesser percentage of recovery physically. Nearly microscopic chance of mentally. And with a great chance of both physical and mental complications even if he recovers for the moment. Yet simply because you may or may not be able to walk again you seem to think the world has ended for you." He shook his head lightly, eyes glistening in a way to show he was on a roll now. Nothing would stop him until he was done and any interruptions would be ignored. "No, no my dear friend. I know you have never liked people fussing over you. Especially if there is someone else hurt that you care for. But you must see that Timothy will be unable to recover if you are not well yourself. If he sees you have given up he will as well." He paused a moment, "And you know as well as I do that he is a lot brighter to unspoken details then he seems. He'll be able to tell that you've given up... even if you deny it."

Ducky leaned back in the chair, look as if he was reflecting now, a look he often got when he was about to tell a story, "You know, Jethro, I once knew a man in a similar situation. He was wounded while trying to save his friend in combat. Both were seriously injured but he was paralyzed. I don't mean this chance of recovery that you have. Oh no he would have killed for the chance you have now. No... he was paralyzed. There was no chance to walk again.. not even a small one. He didn't like this fact, so he gave up. He withdrew from everyone. He tried to help his friend but essentially it was still obvious that he had given up on himself."

Ducky sighed with a frown, "Well... his friend had seen this sad change. He felt so guilty that the poor man killed himself. Of course this jutted my friend back to reality. He was paralyzed but was alive. But now his friend was not. Simply because he had felt he was at fault for his friends condition. And that, if his strong friend, who he had looked up to, had given up... the he could himself. My friend felt horrible about what happened so he, to, killed himself."

Ducky paused, letting the story sink in a moment. "Now.. I know that isn't exactly the pep talk usually given to a person in your situation but the normal 'and he got on with his life' conversation seems a little redundant as I'm sure the nurses have already said it."

Finally Ducky stood, hoping to god that Gibbs had listened and paid attention. He had said something very important and needed it to sink it. For both Timothy and Jethro's sakes. "So in conclusion, my dear friend, you can not help Timothy if you keep blaming yourself and don't at least try to help yourself. I would hate to see my friend's story play out again." He patted Gibbs on the shoulder before making his way out of the room just as dignified as he had entered.


	44. Tim21

**_Tim_**

_Meanwhile:_

Tim lay in his bed, completely unconscious. The knowledge that Gibbs was in bad shape wouldn't leave him even in sleep… a place that should be quite and restful. Gibbs was hurt… bad. That much Tim had been able to see in his slightly conscious awareness when Gibbs had been in here, before Tony and Ziva entered.

And he was hurt because of Tim. Tim didn't think Gibbs could possibly care… none of them could… but that didn't help the fact that Gibbs shouldn't be hurt. It was all Tim's fault… all his fault.

The smile on Tim's face couldn't be whipped away. The car was absolutely beautiful! His sixteenth birthday… finally. Long ago surpassed the grade most people got their first car. He was a freshmen in MIT now. But legally he could actually drive. And he had gotten his license just yesterday. He thought that had been his main birthday present. His family wasn't exactly rich so couldn't afford very expensive things.

_But this…. He suddenly looked up to his parents, "How did you guys afford it?" It was a'84 Camero Z-28 Five speed. Not exactly a cheap car from the dump like he had been expecting._

_His mom shook her head, a smile on her face. He was only sixteen and worried about finances, "Don't worry about that Tim."_

_His father gave him a long look, though there was a smile beneath the rough exterior, "Go on Tim… why don't you take it for a spin?"_

_Tim looked at the car and then at the keys that suddenly seemed to appear in his hand. Finally he looked up and gave a nod._

_He would have rathered gone alone for his first drive. He never liked other people's lives on his hands when he had passengers. But his mom and dad both seemed to really want to take a spin, and he couldn't really say no to his parents._

_Carefully he drove. Although he was going the speed limit and a little less in some places it felt like he was going a million miles an hour. The sound the beast made make him feel alive. But he was to smart to put his foot down. He'd have to go to a track to do that._

_Finally he turned the car around, deciding he had his fun and had to get home. There was an exam tomorrow and he couldn't fail it. _

_Everything from there was a blur. As he crossed an intersection, wary in case someone pulled out when they weren't supposed to, someone indeed pulled out. They didn't seem to even have an origin. It slammed into the passenger's side of the car which pushed the moaning hunk of metal and its inhabitants into the other lane of incoming traffic… and right into the path of an oncoming bus. All he could feel after that was a split second of pain, like fire, and blackness._

"All my fault… all my fault." Tim writhed around in his bed before sitting bolt upright, hissing in pain at the force it took to do so, before laying back in the bed, white as a sheet and sweating, the salty sweat mingling painfully with unbandaged cuts. He hadn't had a memory that vivid of that year in… god… before he even started working at NCIS.


	45. Gibbs22

**_Gibbs_**

The talk was just that, one sided. Not only because Jethro didn't want to talk but because the older man seemed to not allow a word in edge wise. Jethro had looked away from the man a few times because he didn't want to hear this. Needed to but anyone in his condition and mind frame right now wouldn't want to hear it. Nor did he need any kind of hopeful pep talk either. He hadn't given up entirely but it was just not a high enough percentage for him to even think of ever walking again. He had been through being shot, blown up, beaten, stabbed, nearly drown and lost everything in his life and now he could possibly lose the use of his legs. It was just adding up to the long list of crap life had thrown at him.

Jethro did listen to every single word Ducky had to say. And to let the man think he had accomplished something he didn't reply. He just let him walk out of the room as he had entered. His mind on the story and his mind on McGee. The poor boy was shoved into a world he never thought he would be and Jethro felt he should have protected him better. Should have known with an encryption like that someone would be out to find it. He had over looked that small important thing and now look where they were. Blame, the only one he felt should be blamed for any of this as himself.

Letting out a long breath, Jethro didn't find much sleep for the next week. Doctors had came in to talk with him and what not but still no signs of improvement what so ever. He was healing, his other injuries, but his legs still had no feelings from the hip down. Not even a tingle. He had started to move around a bit more but had stayed away from McGee and actually had it so no one at all could even sneak into his room. He needed this time to actually start to figure out his situation. He had tried to move his legs at least a toe but nothing. Not even a twitch. Giving up was something he felt like doing but Ducky's talk mixed with his stubborn ass side just wouldn't let him. His chest was healing better and he didn't need the aid of the pillow all that much. He had been refusing to let the nurses help him into the wheel chair either. He had been doing it himself. Be damned he was going to lose all his dignity and have people do everything for him. There was no more independent person than Jethro.

Actually dressed in a pair of baggy dress pants and a flannel black and red checkered button up shirt, Jethro gets himself all comfortable in the wheel chair and straps his legs in so he doesn't just fall out of the damn thing. He had on a pair of slippers not much ence of having shoes on right now not here any way. He was planning on getting out of there sooner than most wanted him to.

Wheeling himself down the hall, Jethro pushes open the door to McGee's room on his own. No he probably shouldn't be doing this but he wanted McGee to see he wasn't giving up or giving in. Not just because of what Ducky said(that helped) but because he knew McGee needed more confidence than he himself did. He wheels himself right over to the bed and hits the little break thing and looks the man over.


	46. Apology

I apologize for my update style…

I know I should do like… one chapter per day… or something neat like that. But firstly I'm to lazy to properly update every day.

Secondly… since I'm making chapters more or less each individual post (hence some chapters being only a paragraph) except for really long posts which I break up it would take YEARS to even get up to where I am now… I already have a ton of chapters and I'm not even near where I am now in actually RPing.

Plus I'm lazy… and posting these things take to much time.

So that's why I post 10 or more chapters and thenstop for a long time.

I've decided to no longer proof read the posts so all I am doing now is copying the posts into individual documents and making each paragraph have a line in between them... it's quicker and might ensure faster updates.

Also I have changed chapter names. Rather then some witty chapter name (there's not enough songs to continue that) or boring old 'chapter 1, 2, 3' I've decided to label the chapter with who's post that is. (Which means if there's a bunch of Tim's or Gibbs's next to each other that one one post I broke up... for the record.)

Perhaps I'll end up stopping putting who's post it was in the actual document and keep it just the chapter title. That also may speed things up.

So in conclusion... the posts may get a little messier or make less sense now and again but thats cause at this point I'm just transfering... not proof reading.


	47. The End (Not a chapter but important)

_**Thank you so much everyone! But I'm afraid this story has been discontinued. Stay tuned for some rambling.**_

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Well... as I said. This story has been discontinued. It was merely an RP. My friend and myself took two characters and just wrote. Since then we simply stopped RPing.

As for the reviews I got...

I heard a LOT of reviews on spelling and grammar. Also a couple on drawing out unimportant scenes and such... I thank you for noting these things and I'll keep note in the future (I really will as I continue to try and grow my writing), but if I recall correctly I mentioned that TWO people were writing this at the very start. Neither of us were that great at spelling or grammar so, since this was between us, neither of us really cared. Also, seeing as it was two people RPing and not actually creating a fanfic changes in writing style was to be expected. Nevertheless... the fact that you guys read through the whole story and took the time to fix some of my mistakes... I do have a lot of gratitude. It means a lot. Please don't grammar check this chapter though, I'm uninterested except in my actual writing.

As for some questions brought up in the story, feel free to review this "chapter" or message me. If I get a lot of the same questions/get a lot of questions in the reviews I will update one more chapter with answers. It could be hours to months from when you send it, as a forewarning. It's been years since this RP was ended, but there was some that went on after my last chapter here. I also know how I'd want it to end if I was the only writer. But I wasn't so I can't definitively say how it ended. (Plus... as an RP it never was meant to have an ending anyway)

* * *

In any case... Thank you, so much. For everyone who read the story. And double thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, followed and even that one community! I never thought ANY story I wrote or partially wrote would get so much attention. It's mind boggling.

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This story will probably never be updated again (besides the answers chapter, should I make one) There is a chance though it might... someday maybe... I still talk to this friend so if we ever feel like it we can pick up from where these chapters left off but since neither of us watch NCIS anymore I can't make any promises.

_**Anyway... thanks again everyone. I truly mean that.**_


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